Gummy hell!

Dearest readers, I have been very lazy of late and not musing for your delight. However, yesterday I had to return to V.E.T and they whipped out two more teeth. Now, I quite like the bouncy feeling when I eventually come round, but now that I am fully round, (no, don't mention my girth here,) now that I am fully round, my lips and gums are rather sore. I shall have to stop smiling and hang on to my two remaining nashers. Managing to eat well, all of my Science Plan - what science is this?? - and even my drugs.

I'm not dribbling and the noisy, energetic minx has left me alone. Quite right too, as I recline in the luxury of the leopard skin basket, placed perfectly under the heat god I hear is called 'ray-dee-ate-er'. Anything that shares my love of eating is a friend of mine.

Beauty Treatment

Just back from my beauty and cosmetic parlour, formerly known as the vet's. I decided that the benefits of waste reduction, and so very green of me, is to return to the table of reduction and ask my, um, cosmetic surgeon to assist me.

Moments later, and after something akin to a party popper was placed up my derriere, I was free of the waste and ready to eat again! My poop was partying, and no longer a part of me.

Am considering a range of beauty treatments for any self respecting kitty lady like myself. And the receptionists are so kind and thoughtful, and the new vet warmed her mits first.

Joy has returned to my life again.

Feline Colonic Irrigation

Just recently I have not been feeling myself and have neglected my blog. I have had to travel in The Basket of Death several times to visit the V.E.T.

But today reached new levels of indiginity! The charming Emma, who you can see if you click on the link, advised me it was best to remove the... um... 'obstruction' by submitting myself to a simple cosmetic treatment, a treatment all the ladies of 'lee-jour' are enjoying: colonic irrigation. Uh-huh.

Prior to this, I was requested to produce a small sample, but that was the point! I could not produce a sample of any size and hence my problem. It was a most trying morning. But I submitted to the procedure in the end and I now feel considerably looser, lighter, back to my old full fat self.

I might send the minx there, see how she likes a pipe stuffed up her jaxy. Lord knows she's full of enough ... how does a lady like myself refer to it? ... full of enough waste produce.

Tweets and Twitter

I have found a new way for self expression and have joined the twittering classes.

Meantime, I have warned the little minx that I know people. Yes, really know people. I know Russian oligarchs and everything. She has been warned.

But my world has extended somewhat. We are surrounded by scaffolding and I can stretch out and around my balcony and gallop past the bedroom window - the very window she 'slipped' from at Christmas.

Time was I'd be blogging about my diet. She seems to have got me on one. Haven't had a tasty snack for hours.

My corner of the bed

I have annexed it back into my country and I intend to remain in it. I can curl up into a ball and snooze my way through the night, omitting the occasional snort as I drift in and out of my Aslan rich dreams.

She'll not get my corner back, oh no! She must play her silly games of dashing about and biting the hand that feeds it around me.

Spring Has Sprung

I feel a little lighter this morning, having just had the most pleasurable groom. This is the equivalent of a Polish Kosmetyki or a facial in Blightey speak. Ah yes, beauty treatments of the world, I am so globally experienced.

Meantime, during the week, I have lived in fear of assault. The teenage mother or 'Killer' as they lovingly call her as she sinks her claws into their feet one more time, has been stalking me. Left alone for hours during the day, we have to spend more than the usual amount of time together. She sits behind the washing rack and then pounces as I saunter past. She spies on me from MY armchair. She positions herself under the table as if she's some lioness in the tundra, (fat)belly squashed against the carpet, small head whurring away as if the brain is registering some activity.

Luckily I am built to withstand any assaults, but it's most tiresome when I wish to take my usual twice daily stroll from kitchen to bedroom, bed to sofa. Not designed for cats, but I think she should move out and live in one of these purple appartments.

And the salmon appears to have dried up. Not seen a pilchard for weeks.

New Year, New Diet

One small advantage of Scarlet's unfortunate fall (ahem..), is that our diet now features much fish. (Her jaw can't be over exercised on those hateful little biscuits they introduced, and as we dine in the same space, I too cannot be expected to eat them.)

So, back to my new fishy friends. I dine on tinned red salmon, soft, tasty tuna, and my personal favourite - pilchards in tomato sauce. I am sure this is having a beneficial effect on my waistline. I may copyright this new diet: Fish For Fun and Loose Weight At The Same Time.

Indeed, I may take up a new post and follow in the pawsteps of other similar feline heroes to myself like Shackleton's Mrs Chippy and the more recent Judith and be certain of a lifetime of pilchard dining. Antarctic here I come!

Note to self, remember to take a blanket or two.