I am in the dark

Great. No power. Soon my laptop will run out of juice and I will be left, alone, hungry and with THAT CAT. And it's cold.

Time is not flying

I have been introduced to the new lodger. I say introduced, but it was hardly the kind of greeting I am used to. For the last week I have been subjected to being stared at, my chair assaulted from all sides and its fabric scratched by her nasty claws, her juvenile, thin face peering at me, lips being licked when I attempted to stretch my legs and move onto the floor, MY litter tray being used as her pissoir, my food being eaten (if you can call the new diet she's put me on 'food',) and my bed position totally out of bounds.

I am considering applying for an ASBO for 'Scarlett', for that's what they call her. Scarlett, scarlett..what a rough old harlot! And she's had kittens I reckon. Probably a teenage mother, she looks so young.

Come back Olive, all is forgiven!

So you can see, my time is NOT flying and I am under seige. I may as well be in a war zone. I may as well be on my table all the time for all they'd notice.

I did manage a small tortilla chip.

Have I eaten something and now I'm seeing things?

I've noticed lately that the door to the hall is occasionally closed. And on one of these occasions, I peered under the door. And I saw four black feet, some black whiskers and possibly but I can't be sure, two green eyes staring back at me. I had to lie down to recover.

Could it be Olive? Is she back: thinner, younger, full of life, a feline Lazarus? The very thought makes me sweat a little. Eventually, when the door was open again, I made sure everyone knew 'I am here and rule this joint'. I galloped very quickly and very loudly from the bathroom to the living room, jumping like a gazelle over the backdoor step and onto my table. I am pretty sure even Aslan would have heard me and recognised my majestic and powerful mighty-ness. (It gave me wind, but I am certain it was worth it.)

They smell of...THE SHELTER!

So there I was, minding my own business, lying about and then they came home. I sniffed the rucksack, not the usual one, I'd already given that a good kicking with my special rolling/kicking fierce-a-cise, and I could smell it. It all came flooding back to me, the ground floor quarters I had to live in, the clanging of the gates, the smell of disenfectant, the constant visitors, the meewing, the staring from my fellow misfortunates and the firm but fair waitresses. It could only mean one thing: The Cats Protection League!

What does this mean? Surely I am not to return there, am I??

I might be depressed

It's been very strange here lately. Olivka or El Scrawnio, ok ok, so her name is Olive, has disappeared. I last saw her on Sunday morning when they bundled her into the Basket of Death and whisked her off down the stairs. I sat about for a while, cleaned my paws, ate a biscuit and stretched, the usual Sunday morning routine. (Actually that's my any day routine.)

Some hours later, they returned. The Basket of Death was empty. I expected her to jump out, hiss at me, sulk, give me one of her meanest stares, but nothing. I sniffed round the basket, I looked inside it and behind it, in case she was hiding and in a moment of irrationality thought I'd fancy a game. (Note: I call it the Basket of Death because Olive told me a cat who lived here before, often went out in it and then one day never came back. And it smells of The V-E-T.)

Then I noticed it. They were crying. That other one came to visit and she was making similar sounds. They all kept trying to cuddle me and surely they know I only like one, or at most two, therapeutic cuddles a day.

Since then, still no sign of Olive my old friend (ahem..) and a strange atmosphere has descended. For example, I am allowed to sleep on the bed ALL NIGHT. I am encouraged to walk up the top end of the bed and maybe even sit down. I don't sit down of course, she might be hiding somewhere and that's her bed area. There is alot of food and treats and only I am here to eat it.

Looking back on it, she made some odd noises on Saturday and she was lying about on the floor. I sat on my armchair and tried to look serine. In fact, she left some small 'presents' on the carpet and who did they blame? ME! For once, I was innocent. Oh happy days.

This is most odd. It has its high points such as the food and the bed, but I actually quite liked the old kit. Who is here for me to offer my friendly, horizontal paw pat to? (Not to be confused with an aggressive whack from the front paws.) Who can I chase down the stairs? Who will sit with me when I go outside? And who am I going to ignore?