Hey, so the boss has writers block, huh? Stuck for something to say that’s so profound or mildly amusing so he’s asked me to step up to the plate and stand in for him. Guest Post, he called it. Guest, my eye. I live here.
Hello, my name is Lucy, I’m his cat. I haven’t always been his cat. I was her cat for a while after they brought me from that hell hole that masquerades as Cat Rescue – all that yowling, a girl can’t get a good day’s kip anywhere – but once I was sick and he looked after me during the day and stuff and I got to know him better. He’s not as stuck up as he seems to be sometimes. He can moan, though, especially when I throw up. . “Okay, okay”, I say, “sorry. I just got some hair, okay. And with that stupid beard just be grateful that you don’t throw up all over the place. It would make me sick.” That’s disrespectful, I know. But – sometimes !
Anyway, over time I got to know him better. He’s the one who feeds me all the time. She’s out working, I guess. Who’d be human? He calls me The Lobster. Very funny. Sometimes we play this game. He thinks he wins but he doesn’t. When he comes down in the morning all hung over and rubbing his eyes, it’s not a pretty sight I can tell you. So I meow gently for my breakfast while he makes coffee. It’s good coffee, he says, – stinks the place out though.
He ignores me. I meow louder. He ignores me more. I yowl. The more he ignores me the more I yowl. Still no breakfast. He says I nag him. He’s no idea, has he girls?! So, I shut up. I let him think I’ve given up. He thinks he’s won and wanders back upstairs with her coffee and to get the lazy so-and-so out of bed. “7 o’clock, dear” Makes ya sick. I lay on the bedroom floor and look up at him and smile a little pleading meow. Bingo. Works every time. Breakfast is served. Hahaha, jerk – thinks he won but I just play a long game. We know how to get what we want from our men, don’t we ladies! Anyway, what’s the point of having a man if you can’t make him do what you want ?
Just right now I’m having a bit of a run-in with the cat next door. His name is Marbles. I don’t think he has any. Downstairs or up. He’s bigger than me. Just big and stupid. He likes to take the sun just where I like to take the sun so it’s a race to the spot first thing every morning. If Al would get on and serve my breakfast without any to-do I’d get there first. But some mornings “Big and Stupid” has been and thrown his towel down already. You can smell it and boy does it stink. Men !
Keep taking the sun, girls – know what I mean ?!