A perspective on refitting the kitchen
Let me introduce myself – I am Pixie’s cat. She called me Satan (without asking me) and now I am stuck with it. My mistake, really – I should NOT have started to answer to it. But I was only a little kitten at the time and now it is too late to change it to a proper cat name like Tiddles or Sooty (either would do because I am black and have been known to have the occasional accident on the furniture).
Anyway, I hear that Pixie has been blogging and tweeting or something. When I hear something tweet I usually eat it, but this seems to be something different – and inedible. As far as I can tell, she has been telling everyone what a mess her kitchen is and how she’s been sitting next to her microwave oven thats taken up residence on her sofa. This is stupid – even cats know that sofas are for sitting on (preferably with a lap underneath and microwaves are for cooking salmon for cats.
She is absolutely right about the mess, though, but she has been so busy telling everyone how inconvenient it has been for her and her husband (Rich) that she has completely forgotten about the most important person in this – namely ME!
Now, as my staff, Pixie and Rich ought to know that I am the most important person around, yet they have completely forgotten about how all this has inconvenienced me.
So I’ve just managed to get to her computer while she’s not looking and have hacked in to her blog to get my point accross, (For some reason humans can use a keyboard with their front legs but cats can’t – I don’t understand why, when we are far more intelligent, so i’m wondering around the keyboard with all 4 paws and just hope i am pressing the right buttons so you humans understand what its like to be a cat).
One morning, without any warning at all, Pixie and Rich started to dismantle the kitchen (with much banging and swearing). This disturbed my early morning nap. However, I was even more disturbed a little while later when I decided to wander around my estate – they had taken my cat flap away! My own, personal cat flap! Imagine the indignity of a fine and mature cat, in her absolute prime, having to make a graceful exit through a hole in the brickwork. Fortunately, none of the neighbours were watching, so no harm was done to my reputation except for a bit of brick dust on my back which I got Pixie to brush off when I returned home for my late morning nap.
I thought that I had them sufficiently well trained to install a brand new state-of-the-art cat flap without delay, but here we are weeks later with nothing more elegant than a ragged hole in the bricks. It is a good job that I am a cat with great patience – a lesser animal would have been off by now!
The rest of the kitchen is no better. Rubble everywhere, and Pixie still sitting next to the microwave. Rich has gone back to the comfort of an oil rig in the middle of the Sea and the new kitchen doesn’t seem to have even left the factory yet. Unbelievable! I must go and have a lie down. I will write again soon, so watch this space.