Cruel, cruel fate

This morning my love was already at the mesh when I arose, her nose pressed through, her gentle mewing summoning me to her.

I spent some seconds, or was it minutes, or could it be hours immersed in her limpid blue eyes. Sheer bliss.


...


How cruel is fate, how scuppering of feline hopes, how dashing, how heartless.

Footsteps I heard, one set slow and measured, one set scampering and prancing. A familiar voice wrenched me back to reality. Now? Of all times, now?

...

As the car pulled out of the catprisonery, I looked back yearningly through the rear window. My love, my love...

Well, hello

Things are looking up. A rather nice Siamese has moved in to the cell next door. She's called Fifi La Rue Trixibelle and we've had a little sniff through the wire. She is exquisite!

I must say that I'm feeling a bit of a stirring. Which is strange, because I am not sure how much I have left to have a stirring in.

Whatever.

No longer counting the days until the return of the Chief Minion now I have my Fifi near me...

Another mark on the wall

Broke a claw this morning as I scratched another tally mark on the wall. She can't stay away much longer, surely? I refuse to believe this is my new life now. She will be back soon, with fusses and Dreamies and abject apologies for absence.

Won't she?

Art imitating life

Now this is what I'm talking about!

Twit

Last night I could hardly sleep.  I would like to point out that, contrary to popular understanding, cats are not nocturnal. We are crepuscular. This means that some idiot bird perching on my accommodation and twit-twooing all night is not welcome. Doesn't he realise that I need my sleep?

I heard the Minion talking about a nowl which made noise in the night. Well, let me tell you - if that nowl comes back tonight I'll give him something to think about. It's not natural to hear that kind of thing while one is trying to sleep. Everyone knows that one is soothed to sleep by the dulcet chiming of those dangly metal things on next door's fence...

Yellow card

Today a Minion brought me a rectangle of cardboard. Upon its face was an image of what appears to be the largest litter tray in existence, although the Minion referred to it as a beach. There was a faint smell of the Chief Minion upon it, so she must have handled it at some point.

Why on earth she would send me such a thing, I have no idea. I have studied it, propped up in the corner of my exercise yard. The card propped up, not me. I can certainly see the great potential it contains for much digging, evacuation and half-hearted attempts at covering up. However, a chap needs a spot of privacy when going about his business, and this enormous litter tray would afford none of this. Whatever can she have been thinking?

Cold Turkey

I recall on my previous visit to this establishment that the sacred Dreamies were issued with regularity and punctuality. In an entirely outrageous step,  the Chief Minion has stopped providing them at home. I had great hopes that the silver lining of my stay here would be resumption of supply.

However, this has not been forthcoming. I can only assume that the Minions here have been briefed by the Chief Minion. My attempts to elicit sympathy and deliciousness have thus far failed - at the approach of the Minion I have been sucking in the frill and trying to look as emaciated as possible. Today she called me a 'corpulent fellow' as she tickled me behind my ears. I'm not sure what that means but I feel it can only be a good sign and those Dreamies can't be far away...