A ribbon. A best a cat can get.

Dear followers,

Today was rather a mundane day, but things sort of brightened up as the early afternoon approached. My Mummy  came back, not my feline mother, but my human one. However, she came back with a red, triangular shaped box. This took me back to the days of December 25th as indeed it was a gift, and yuletide beckoned once again in my mind.

This red box smelt so sweet. But what was so important about this, was not the display of affection between my two guardians, but the fact the box had a smooth ribbon attached to it. This ribbon itself smelt floral, and its touch on my fur sent shivers down my back. I love my new ribbon. I think mummy bought that gift whilst thinking about me, not Steffu.

My English friend Steffu ate the chocolates in around 32 minutes. I was surprised how he gobbled them down, especially as he felt ill. Nonetheless, lets not get bogged down in time related issues, the main topic was what happened after the chocolate. Mummy decided to play some strange prank on me- without giving me my ribbon.

I heard noises, horrid noises. They appeared to be sounds from fellow foreign cats, and at one point it all became unbearable. Her machine, typing-box was playing sounds which made me feel on edge. At one point it became unbearable, and i had to leave the room as paranoia kicked in and i was convinced 5/6 cats were in my room. Silly Winston just slept through it. I understand though, he is young and carefree.

I'm looking forward to my evening meal. I hope to feast on "tender duck" this evening as that is the most delicate pouch out of the selection. I will fill me up until around 10pm, but most importantly it will set me up for my long evening of chatting.

Winston needs educating and i decided there is no better place to start the with my Grandpa Malbo- born 2009, and my great friend Dr Squizzles. Winston must listen to my prophecies regarding my Scottish brother Squizzles, as some of his adventures are tremendous. My Grandpa- Malbo- i suspect is deceased, as he will be very old by now. Nevertheless, i have many stories to tell about his tales around the campfire, jolly singing, his whiskey and indeed his pipe.

I myself have decided i must somehow purchase a monocle. One of my colleagues on hairypussies.co.uk showed me this great invention. You see, i'm beginning to struggle to type on the Apple Ipod touch, and my typos are becoming ever more prominent. If i get the monocle, i will look something like my friend below (See Fig.1).

Oh and Winston (my ginger compatriot) says: "0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000"- obviously by accident, he is clumsy and he stood on my typing tool.


Fig.1.