The coming and goings (but unfortunatly, they came back)

Well, it has been like Clapham Junction around here lately. Where to start? Well I suppose that I should do it in some sort of chronological order.

Soon after nap number 234 for the day, Mum turns up with my personal travel accommodation suite. At last! I think, DK is finally being got rid of!! But no, she puts me in it instead. Rat Roll!!!! This is not looking good. Surely she has not found out about that unfortunate incident just yet!! I mean, I had managed to cover my tracks very well and had set up the DK as the fall Kitten. But I digress.


I am placed into the back of the black monstrosity that is her vehicle and left by myself. I am looking through the segmented window (they are NOT bars) of my travelling accommodation, trying to see if there is any paperwork or travel documentation around which might indicate that travel was in my future.

Then the hairy ones are placed in to the back as well. Stupid dogs. They treat each car ride as a great opportunity for adventure and excitement. If only that was true.

Sure enough, after a brief journey (without even stopping for a Latte, despite me telling Mum everytime we past a suitable cafe) we arrived at the Vets.

Oh, Man! this never is good news!

In we go, all four of us. I am dragged out of my travel suite and am placed on the examination table. The Quack with the cold thermometer comes over. I try to warn her that if she values her hands that there had better not be any funny business this time.

Strangely enough, the failed medical student was content with only waving a wand over me. She talked to Mum about chips, but I failed to see any takeaways being offered, even though I could have done with some battered cod right about then.

Anyway, back into the cage, I mean, travel accommodation suite I was placed.

Now I knew why I was there, the entire trip had been done for my benefit as I now had a ringside seat to the humiliation of the dogs. Laugh! I nearly hacked up a furball!!!!

First of all, the dreaded thermometer came out. Quick as a flash Simple (Simba) was sporting a new fashion accessory out of a very private place. His goofy and normally strange expression on his mug was accented by this procedure. Very entertaining.

Then it was Wollies (Wolfies) turn. He is a bit smarter than Bimba (relatively speaking, in the same way that a Smartie is more intelligent than an Liquorice Allsort) and he tried to sit down. This manoeuvre should never be attempt whilst having a tube of glass up the backside. I was rolling in my box at this stage.

Then the Bloke turned up. Just finishing another hard days work to keep me in the manner of which I have become accustomed too. It is not easy keeping me in catfood, I tell you. But really, who cares about his labouring? I don't. I keep suggesting to him to dump the others and then he would have more to spend on me!!! Totally reasonable in my mind. But No! He still keeps them around. Never learns.

Just when I did not think that it could get any better, it does!!! Out comes the needle!!! please let it be blue, please let it be blue! But unfortunately, Mum failed to follow through on her frequent threats and the needle was not blue. But at least the dogs got stuck and then had stuff shoved up their nose (I had to pay extra for that last procedure, but it was worth it).

After so much fun, it was time for home. So we all piled back into the car, home for jellimeat and biscuits.

Things settled back into to the normal routine, I ruled the house with a velvet glove, DK spent as much of his time as possible winding me up, the dogs did what ever morons do to fill in their days (run, fetch, remember to breath etc).

Then last weekend, the house was segregated. I was locked OUT of MY bedroom and the DK was locked IN my bedroom. They had left a window open for me, but they had made the opening far too narrow even for my svelte like body shape (NO! I have not put on weight, my fur always looks that taunt).

But I decided that every empty sardine can has a silver lining and so therefore went on an all night party around the neighbourhood, hitting all the high class joints. Haven't done that in quite a while, I can tell you. Managed to get back mid afternoon, just before the rest of the rabble returned from some trip to Central Otago. They may have told me about it prior to leaving, but do I look like I keep tabs on THEIR social calender? I mean, mine is complicated enough!

Me being very gracious and letting DK share my Couch

I did make them feel immediately sorry for letting the DK have my bedroom. Fools, I can play them like a violin.

Trying to recover after my all night bender

The next day, Mum and the Bloke went off somewhere (where you ask? Who cares, it didn't involve me). They came back towing a trailer covered with a tarpaulin. What are they up to now?! the tarpaulin is removed to reveal the presence of two, white creatures. They look just like the pictures on some of the cans of jellimeat that I get served.

My mobile dining delights, fresh on the hoof

Excellent!! Thinks I, they have now relented to my repeated requests for fresher food and got the meat on the hoof, so to speak. Salivating, I awaited the appearance of lamb cutlets, chops etc. But Mum and the Bloke instead struggled with lifting them one at a time up through the garden and putting them into the paddock. Maybe they are being kept as winter feed for me. Hope they don't leave it too long as I prefer a more tender type of cut.

I have visited the lambs on different occasions, but they seem a bit skittish when I start discussing with them what sauce accompaniments they would suggest being best for Lamb meat. One worrying aspect is that they keep saying that they had heard Mum and the Bloke telling the farmer that they were destined to die of old age. Must have been something told to them to calm their nerves. I mean to say, why else would you have Lambs other than to feed me?

Anyway, must dash, later Darlings.

xxxxxx

Okay!! which one of you smarties decided to put this picture on my blog??!! Oh the indignity!