Innocent? #BlogBattle

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The chocolates have got teeth marks
and the tinsel has been mauled.
The presents have been bashed and chewed,
the Christmas tree looks bald.

There are baubles in the kitchen
and a stocking in the sink,
the fairy’s disappeared
– have we driven her to drink?

The lights are in a tangle,
they’ve been strewn across the floor.
The tree is artificial
but it’s shedding on the floor!

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“What on earth has happened here?
That poor, old Christmas tree,
it’s totally dishevelled
and it’s littered with debris!”

“It looks like you attacked it
in a catnip-filled assault!”
“Who me?” replied the cat, surprised,
“It’s really not my fault.”

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“I’m innocent. I’m blameless.
I’m as good as gold. You see,
I was curled up, sleeping deeply
but the tree… it fell on me!”

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“I might be sitting here with
a bauble on my paw,
I caught that one especially
as a gift for Santa Claus!”

“And I’m fully out of catnip
– to that I must confess –
So human, run and grab some more
… and do clean up this mess!”

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Fluffy Festivities

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Who me?

Gloria Chufflepuff Braveheart the first!
You might be a cutie, but you’re by far the worst
for fluffy attitude and arsiness and grumpiness galore,
when you don’t get your way and we shout out, “No more!”
as you cavort round the house, knocking things on the floor,
swinging from curtains and causing uproar.
Stalking the birds as you stare at the skies,
then running to hide from the big, bad magpies.
Splashing in water that you’re meant to drink
and shouting out, “Ham!” as you sit in the sink.
Swishing your tail and shaking your floof
with your nose in the air as you act all aloof.
Until darkness falls and you creep to my bed,
where you snore and fidget and sleep on my head
– one paw in my mouth, another up my nose.
Who knew that cats had such sharp elbows?!
But today is your birthday! I’ve tried not to shout
when you leaned in to kiss me but gave me a clout,
when you nuzzled my head and then spat in my hair,
when you coughed up a furball and fell off the chair.
Because we all still adore you even when you act tough.
Happy Birthday you infuriating bundle of fluff.

Blowing raspberries in the garden

 

Floof

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img_7358Ever wondered what your cat does all day?

I know exactly what mine does.

She floofs.

Everywhere.

I’d only been out for the afternoon.  I’d left a relatively tidy house.  Yet I came home just 3 hours later to a white, mohair carpet.  It was like an explosion in a candy floss factory, minus the pink.  Floof central.

Strangely enough, the cat is grey, which goes nowhere to explain how my carpet was covered in white floof.  Plus the sofa.  And the curtains.  The table too.  Come to think of it, the standard lamp was also rather skew.

Domestic duties

As I surveyed the scene, in sauntered the chuffin cat – not looking bald as I had expected, but maybe a little dishevelled.

“Holy moly!  What have you been up to?!”  I yelled.

Gloria gave me a withering look, then looked at the floor.  There I spied a mangled fly.

“You spent 3 hours chasing a fly??” I exclaimed.

Wa ha ha haaaaGloria let out a sigh.  I got the impression that she would have rolled her eyes if she could have.  Instead she adjusted her tufty paws, swished her tail (oh look, more floof) and stared at the fly again.

Then I understood what she meant: she had spent 3 hours waging war against a monstrous man-eating menace, who had threatened to destroy the house and everything in it.  So what’s the problem with a bit of floof and a few broken ornaments?

Satisfied that I now had an accurate grasp of the situation, she stood up and nonchalantly padded to the door.

Then with a turn of her head, she cast her eye across the scene and fixed me with that familiar glare, the one that says, “Look at the state of this place, human staff member, you really should perform your housekeeping duties to a higher standard.  No feline needs to spend her day paw-deep in discarded floof!”

Peek a boo!

#BlogBattle Loss of Marbles

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My cat has lost her marbles
It’s pretty clear to see
she’s as nutty as a fruitcake,
as moronic as can be.

She doesn’t climb like other cats,
hugs tree trunks like a bear
to hide from birds and squirrels
and pretend she isn’t there.

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My cat has lost her marbles,
she’s just stark raving mad,
using my poor stomach
as her personal launch-pad.

Don’t move your head too close to her
and mind those tufty paws,
for when she gives a head massage
she uses teeth and claws!

My cat has lost her marbles,
she’s a little bit ‘cuckoo’.
She cavorts around the bathtub
and then tries to lick the loo.

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She doesn’t drink like normal cats,
but uses both her paws
to throw the water everywhere
then lap it off the floor.

My cat has lost her marbles,
it’s fairly safe to say
She’s demented, daft and dizzy
in a bonkers sort of way.

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She’s checked under the sofa,
with a wiggle and a bound,
to alleviate her loss although
no marbles can be found!

But I love my potty pussy cat,
my fruit-loopy feline.
She might be cracked and crazy
but she’s special and she’s mine!

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I wrote this post as an entry for the February #BlogBattle as seen on Blog Battlers and reblogged on the excellent Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie, where I found it.  The word prompt is ‘loss’… but Gloria twisted my arm with her fluffy attitude and rather than writing about something entirely different and rather sombre, the post naturally became all about her … as always! 

Just a thought but after being Gloria’s Chief Human Staff Member for 4 years, maybe I’m the one who has lost my marbles…

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Enjoy.

Teeth and Fluffy Trousers

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Today I had an argument with the chuffin cat.  It wasn’t a pleasant experience. I have the scars to prove it.  That’s the last time I try to wrestle a piece of holly from her armpit. Until next week that is, when I’ll have to do it all again.  But then it will probably be a bramble stuck in her bum fur, just to change it up a bit. Maybe I should sell ring-side tickets to watch the battle.

Anyway, keen to put our differences aside, I bought her a catnip ball.  Not a tatty, fabric shape infused with 3 solitary leaves of catnip.  No, this was an entire ball constructed of compressed catnip: a deluxe treat.

IMG_5480As I handed the peace offering to Gloria, she eyed me suspiciously.  Two minutes later, having wrestled with it, batted it, pummelled it, dribbled on it and sat on it, she promptly stood up and cast it aside.  Then she flounced off outdoors without even giving it a second glance.  Assuming that put an end to our disagreement, I made a well deserved cup of tea.  As I headed outside with my mug, I felt content in the knowledge that I would be able to sit peacefully in my bear chair, without the worry of being clawed through the wooden slats by a revenge-seeking tufty paw.

Ten minutes later, I received an unexpected present from Gloria in return – a plump, soggy, brown mouse deposited carefully at my feet.  A very much alive mouse who promptly took two large gasps of air, and then waddled off at a brisk pace.

The face of disapprovalGloria looked from me, to the mouse and then back to me again.  Clearly she was expecting some form of action.  We watched together as her ‘offering’ disappeared back into the undergrowth, like a mini spy on a secret mission, having infiltrated enemy lines. He was only missing the dark glasses and briefcase.  Maybe he’d left them in the hedge earlier.

Gloria threw herself on the grass in front of me, an air of disgust hanging like a dark cloud over her fuzzy head.  She glared at me.  I glared back.  And thus we ended up right back where we started from.  In my role as Chief Human Staff Member, I had yet again failed abysmally in trying to live up to Gloria’s high expectations.

Note to self: you can never win a fight when teeth and fluffy trousers are involved (just to clarify, both of those relate to the chuffin cat and not to me).

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You Know it’s Autumn When…

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1  You go for a walk in the woods and emerge looking like Miss Haversham, complete with delightful, new cobweb-infested accessories.

2  It’s communal shower time again, when your ablutions seem to be shared with all manner of uninvited moths, spiders and insects.  What’s worse than finding a spider in the shower?  Just finding the leg of a spider… leading you to die inwardly as you check the soles of your feet for the rest of the innards *shudder*

3  You step out of the shower, go to grab your towel, and instead find yourself shaking hands with a large spider.  It’s very nice of him to introduce himself formally before taking up residence in your bathroom, but I’d say his timing is a little off to be honest.

4  The chuffin cat develops a new coat – consisting mainly of dead leaves and garden debris – which she gleefully spreads around the house at regular intervals.  As a bonus, she might even bring you in a slug or three, stuck to her belly fur.  Having thrown the slug(s) across the room (any room, she’s not fussy), she will then provide you all with some evening entertainment as she proceeds to noisily suck all the slug snot off her body in a particularly uncouth manner.

5  You realise it might be time to invest in some little tin hats for the chickens, as the coop is positioned directly beneath a giant oak tree, and a heap of hooligan squirrels take obscene delight in lobbing acorns from a great height.  Alternatively, just rename your chickens Chicken Licken, Henny Penny, Turkey Lurkey and Cocky Locky, and live out your very own live version of the children’s classic tale.

6  The apple tree in the garden bears fruit, not that you get the chance to eat any of it as the marauding gang of squirrels snaffle the lot, once they’ve finished using the chickens as target practice that is.

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