Suspicion

She's up to something. I don't know what, but something is definately going on. A strange trip at the weekend. New wellingtons. For her. Not for me. I'd love to have a new pair of wellies. Some of those frog ones. They're green and they have boogly eyes so you can stand in a puddle and people look at you and think "look at him, he's standing on 2 big frogs. or maybe toads.". Sorry, where was I? Oh, and not stupid red ones. Or a duffle coat. Humpf. Oh, yes, her. Acting suspicious. We visited The Cats. I wasn't allowed out. Even though there was snow and I like snow. And last night she brought me a present back. A book called "Fluffy". It's about a rabbit called Fluffy apparently. Back from where? Hum.

Paws

I like the idea of cats.


The idea of cats is something mysterious and sophisticated. Warm fur. The twitch of a tail. A contented purr. Dark eyes, shining in moon light.


The reality is more likely to be sulky and a bit smelly with claws. They will try to bite your head off. Or nibble your toes. Or shred you. Everything is a potential meal or a bed.

Real cats scare me. But don't get me started on dogs. Grrrrrr.

Thing I think I heard on the radio today

"Lawyers are like fat cats waiting to be squeezed"