DK update number 2

This bulletin is coming from under the bed covers.

In a shock move yesterday, local celebrity and style Guru Dessie, was forced to look on in horror as Demon Kitten, also answering to Merlin, launched a sneak attack on the property of our feline heroine.

The claiming of Illustrious One's tree by the offender occurred towards the end of an otherwise quiet day in the Ravensbourne Neighbourhood. When asked for comment, Dessie, once referred by herself as 'Queen of all that she surveys', struggled to contain the anger that this act of infamy has produced. "whats next?! My litter tray?" was the all the exasperated feline of distinction could splutter.

" I was hoping the little imposter would have got stuck or fallen at the very least, but i suppose that would have meant that there was justice in this mixed up world" Dessie was reported to have complained.

Repeated attempts by this reporter to obtain the Demon Cats version of events only reuslted in fast manuovering to avoid prolonged attacks on the fingers.

Bulletin ends - Film at Eleven

What the ..................??!!!!!!!!

Okay, I am able to take a joke, I mean to say, I appreciate a good laugh like any other noble creature. Tell me a story involving the Pope, an Englishman and a German, and I will be producing belly laughs in appreciation.

But this is getting a bit beyond the Pale!!!

Alright, I will calm down and tell you the latest "laugh" that Mum and the Bloke are having with me. I mean to say, it must be a joke, right?! Please say it is and my humour is too finely developed to identify it!!!

Here goes.

I am at home, awaiting the arrival of the domestic staff to tend to me, when I hear the arrival of the black monstrosity that Mum seems to love driving (why they did not get anything in Tabby colour, I do not know, simpletons). So I immediately switched Sky off, hid the remains of the Tequila party which was my turn to host for the other neighbourhood felines (dogs need not apply) and deleted the history on the web browser (well, they don't need to see the sites I go to!).

The door opens...... I affect my normal attitude, the one which says "pistch, so your back then" without actually conveying an iota of caring one way or the other really.

First sudden wave of shock washed over me. They have my carry basket in their hands. This can go three ways. First way, Bad, they are sending me back to the UK like they have been threatening, all over my apparent mood of not giving a monkey's towards them (well, I am a cat for goodness sake). Second way, Bad, another trip to the vet! That quack with the cold thermometer had better have his health insurance paid up or else it was going to be a painful Christmas for him, recovering in hospital. I mean to say, has he not heard of tympanic thermometers, what sort of perversion is this?! Or third way, good, that they are finally giving into my constant, yet reasonable demands of spending sometime away on my own in Club Tab (frolicking grounds for Tabbys).

But no, they managed to come up with a fourth option!!!!!

ARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Demon Kitten!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They cannot be serious!! The training of Mum and the Bloke is in a crucial phase, Nirvana is just around the corner. Who knows what a loose variable like a kitten will have on their pea sized brains.

Then to top it all off, he strikes an attitude with ME!! Does not recognise the fact that this is MY house, they are MY domestic staff and that the fur for brain dogs are MY bodyguards (actually on reflection, he can keep the dogs).

Things were starting to get out of control..........

He took over my Bed!! I am now relegated to certain parts of the house. He is eating my food on the sly and the most heinous crime of all, I believe the little bugger is using my Litter tray!!! I know, whats all that about!!!!!!

He also took over sleeping in my carry basket as well, but thats okay as if he
is there, then it is not too much in the way of hassle to close the door and then, Byeee! Back to the shop whence he came (or fiery pit in Hell, whichever)

You would expect that I would get some support from the domestic staff. But no, they are too busy being held captive under his spell. Ungrateful sods. The young are so free and easy with the power of the cat. Its only with age that the power is refined and used to its full potential, subtly, with finesse. They use the power without thinking.

Then he started up his own blog. The Impertinence! Only the writings of the superior feline should be out in the aether. What happens if we start sending mixed messages? it will put the Struggle back years!

Another worrying note is how many attempts DK (Demon Kitten) has tried to stop me writing my blog. Oh sure, he tries to pass it off as being playful, running across the keyboard, 'accidentally' shutting the computer down, trying to chew through the power lead (go on, chew harder, lets see what a few amps does to the fur!!!)

But I'm not getting bitter, oh no. A small spin off has been that Mum and the Bloke have been going out of their way to be nice to me.

I have repaid some of their attention with a dramatic display of my climbing abilities. Of course there were two goals to the display (always have a plan, my Darlings) one, it was to show that I am not so far over the hill that they needed to get a younger model in the first place, and the second was to goad DK into climbing the curtains. Lets see how he gets out of the whirlwind which will be Mum when her precious curtains are shredded!! Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, little one!

Don't worry, my legions of devoted fans, old age and treachery will overcome youthful resourcefulness everytime.

Nap time, Ciao

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Unfortunatly, they all came back......

Well, my darlings, I must tell you that I for a brief moment of time, I finally managed to get some space of my own. At long last, I hear you say. My sentiments exactly.

Mum, the Bloke, Tweedledum and Tweedledummer went away, where they went, who cares? But it meant that I had the house to myself for almost two whole days. For my own safety while they were away, they did close off parts of the house to me. But a cat like myself cannot be restricted even when it is for my own good. Little do they know but I still had the run of the house.

I managed to catch up with my favourite websites while they were away. I do have problems with the speed of the internet over here, but it is still fine enough to share my Muse with my fans. I also filled my time of bliss by trying to send a plea of help to the RSPCA, but I cannot find their link for the email link despite searching everywhere. Their phone number is no good. Damn this not having opposable thumbs!!!

If anyone is able to, please, please send a call for help on my behalf!! I just shudder to think what Mum and Bloke will dream up next to humiliate me.

The whole unfortunate side to this story, is that all them, after going away, raising my hopes that this was the end of them, dashed it all by coming back. Oh, they claim to have been looking out for my best interests. Sure, by giving me an automatic feeder in a very fetching yellow colour. Sure, might have been fetching when yellow was in fashion, like, 1952, but get with it!! its the 21st Century!!!

I might have to get them worried again, by going off my food, that always get positive results..........

But anyway, must dash, there is a nap calling.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

You would not believe what I have to put up with!

Take this morning, I come into the bedroom to grace them with my presence, hop up onto the bed to see if they had left any croissants with jam (they are becoming more and more decadant as time goes on, first it was the coffee machine, then croissants).

No, no food, but there were the two mutts!! this is my bed, the Bloke and Mum I allow out of the goodness of my heart, but the Dogs, this is really too much!! Where will it end, I ask you?!

Dimba (what I call Simba) was lapping it up, getting all arsey if any attention was being displayed in any other direction other than his. He is getting all hot under the collar (Ha ha) at the moment, after something which Mum did, but I will get to that soon.

Woolly minded Wolf was sitting at the end of the bed, probably thinking he was a teapot. Poor old duffer.

Anyway, getting back to the collars. Mum has obviously become taken with the stunning image that I cut in my hot pink collar with Bell and oh so stylish tag, that she decided to get bells for the dogs collars. Of course, only someone with my lith like figure can really pull it off. It is always so demanding being a style guru and leader.

I do try and share my special look and style with the masses, only this morning I was sunning myself out on the front lawn, letting the world look me over. it is always a bit of a balancing act trying to ensure that one does not become too over exposed.

The Flea Bags think that they are so superiour, as if!! Let me give you an example. The Young Burk has been in training (why they bother, I do not know, as we all know that he is unable to perform the most simplest of task). They have been trying to get him to fetch the newspaper.

First of all, how does this advance the animal cause, I ask you. If we all did as humans said, where would we all be? Where would it all end. Dogs dont think about things like this. No, they are all too busy bouncing around the place "oh please, throw it again!!", "its okay, I will use my nose to track instead of you getting off your lardy arse to find it yourself" etc.

A perfect example of this blind devotion happened a couple of days ago. In a fit of smartness, Mum decided to see if the hairy one would be able to find his way to the top of the property, if she threw his ball over the fence.

Mistake number one. The Lone Brain Cell can hardly find his way to the bottom of his nose. What chance does he have with a fence in the way.

Mistake number two. Mum is not the nimblest of creatures at the best of times (but I suppose I should not be using oneself as the standard, given that I am unobtainable in their eyes).

Of course, the result was totally predictable. Fur for Brains couldnt find the open gate, too fat to go through the fence mesh and to lumbering to be able to get under the wire.

So Mum had to go. Laugh, I laughed so hard that I almost coughed up a fur ball! I will let the pictures speak for themself. All I can say, is poor fence.

You know how I said that Simba could not get under the fence, Well, Mum could not get over the fence. Hopeless!!!! I am surrounded by turkeys!!!

Well, thats probably enough for now, my nap beckons.

Ta ta, for now.

Dessie

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

What is that Flea Bag doing in my photo!!!!

See what I have to put up with!!! The Hairy Attention Seeker (aka HAS) is always trying to gate crash my photo shoots. It is not as if he does not get enough exposure on his own blog.

Fetch! Fetch! Silly creature. Always running into water to fetch sticks that Mum has thrown away. If she wants them so bad, let her go and get wet retrieving them herself. By him fetching them, he is only encouraging her. Mindless drone!

Anyway, back to ME!

When I last left you, I was describing my turmultuous life. After a small break where I was the centre of attention (which is only right), first Mum shows up, and thereby ruins all the time that had been spent in training the bloke to answer to my every whim. Followed soon after by Tweedledum and Tweedledee (the long haired, bone munching, walking shag piles).

The disruption to my life was almost at fever pitch when it got worse. We moved again. I am suddenly put into my cage and dragged over the other side of the harbour to the new property. Where I was forced to reassert my territorial boundaries, discover new escape routes, I mean, paths for strategic retirements and to generally announce my presence to the peons of my estate.

After several days of paint fumes and other decorating activity (nothing which I allowed MYSELF to get involved with, of course, thats work for the household staff) I was able to settle into my new abode.

You can imagine my horror, dear readers, when it suddenly became apparent that the staff had not installed my personal door, for when I wish to egress from my abode. The indignity of it all, having to ASK to be allowed out! Like I was some sort of DOG!

And then there was the food issue. I felt that they were getting too comfortable in the idea that I was happy with the board of fare that they were offering. Naturally, this is a big mistake and one which needed to be remedied. So I threw them a few curve balls which had them scampering around trying to find which food I now liked. Keep them off balance, I say.

Well, this was not what I am use to, and of course, I complained to the management. Continuously. Take it from one who knows how to handle affairs with the domestic staff, you must always voice your disapproval, and when that does not do the trick, more direct action is required!

I find, my dear fans, that getting into peoples faces is the most effective, it shows that you care. It is a fine line that one must tread when employing this technique. too little and it is ineffective, too much and the peasants may revolt and your tenure as Lord and Master may come to an abrupt end.

I always try to take over the bed from Mum and the Bloke, as first of all, it is my bed which I gracefully allow them to share with me as long they provide heating.

I also find that helping out with some of the tasks around the house can also improve the good nature between oneself and ones employees.

No! Of course I am not actually suggesting for a minute that I would ever lower myself to do manual work! I instead help out with the higher, intellectual duties. For example, Mum does struggle with the intricacies of proper grammar usage etc.

In way, it also helps to just let them know that I am far better than them in all areas.

Take for example tree climbing. The domestic staff had spent last weekend making my estate presentable and easier for me to move around my domain, by cutting the grass etc.

I had allowed them a small breather (well, I am not a total slave driver) and they had gathered on one of the terraces in the garden. Of course, the dogs HAD to be there as well (probably they needed Mum and the bloke to remind them to keep on breathing, mush heads).

Anyway, I decided to just check out the extent of my property, so I climbed a tree. It was done with my usual skill and attention to the fine detail of the sport. For some reason, the staff started to laugh at me. I know! Laugh! at me!!!

Do they not know that before you climb back down a tree, you must stretch first, announce your intention in climbing down, then to gracefully drop yourself off the branch until you are dangling by the front paws. By doing what can be perceived by the uninitiated as a mad scramble, one is able to generate enough stretch in the limbs as to prevent serious muscle injury.

I performed all these NORMAL activities and they just laughed at me! Laughed! I know, very unsettling.

Well fans, I am feeling the need for another nap now. I will catch up with you all later.

xxxxxxx