Even if we spit on her, the dog would just eat it. She's like that.

Oh Hello!

Here I am doing an impersonation of a gargoyle. I'm on the table because a.) the dog bugs me, and b.) there was some Cheerio milk up there. Otherwise, I'm not much of a table sitter. I'm partial to heating vents and soft duvets.

Sometimes if the LL doesn't get out of bed in a timely manner, I sit on the floor next to the bed and howl. It's very irritating and usually gets her up rather quickly (although once it got me chased out of the bedroom.)

That is all.

The woman has given strict orders to Pumpy and the dog NOT TO TOUCH my fudz. They have to watch and salivate whilst I delicately nibble my dinner.

It certainly is nice to have a brother to sleep with when the winter winds blow cold.

I've taught the dog that if you just plain refuse to eat your fudz, the Lap Lady will give you new and different fudz until you signal your approval. I refused to eat my fudz for a few days and now I'm getting gravy plus some other kind of beefy stinky goodness.

Oh, and have I mentioned that it's cold over here? And snowy.

The southeast of England is having a bout of serious winter weather. Just look at this snow. We're stranded inside the house which doesn't bother me one single bit. We have a full stock of cat fudz and the radiators are all on and working.

Hello.

Just so you know, it's cold here in the south of England. And I'm sitting near a real fire... not one of those fake log fires. Oh no.

Someone blew in my face this morning when I made a polite request for breakfast at 5:30 AM. How rude.