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The collected opinions of an august and aristocratic personage who, despite her body having succumbed to the ravages of time, yet retains the keen intellect, mordant wit and utter want of tact for which she was so universally lauded in her younger days. Being of a generation unequal to the mysterious demands of the computing device, Lady Bracknell relies on the good offices of her Editor for assistance with the technological aspects of her journal.

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Location: Bracknell Towers

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness...

I am given to understand that it is now autumn.

This understanding is not based on my careful observation of the colours of the leaves, or the shortening of the days, but on the resident felines' previously unwonted commitment to snuggling up on me at night.

I have had cats all my life. I am wise to their ways. It takes more than some pretty purring to convince me that I am being snuggled up to because they love me. It is my firm belief that I am being snuggled up to because I am warm. That I am, in point of fact, being shamelessly exploited as the world's largest hot water bottle!

I am also prone to being shamelessly exploited as The Brunt Of All Blame. And not just by Pop.

Bertie wandered into my bedroom at 5.15 this morning, shouting his displeasure at being soaking wet. To prove just how wet he was, he rubbed his flank against my bare leg. He was right: he was wet. He then proceeded to leave muddy paw prints on my duvet, before settling down to dry off in a particularly absorbent area.

Now, given that
  • to the best of my knowledge, no-one actually held a gun to his head and forced him out through the cat flap; and
  • he has a perfectly good litter tray indoors for lavatorial emergencies

I believe I have some justification for feeling aggrieved that he couldn't just have been damp quietly on his own for another hour or so. Particularly given that he had already woken me up in the middle of the night when he decided that it was his turn for the human hot water bottle, and that he would need to beat Caspar up in order to get the best and warmest spot.

The Editor

8 Comments:

Blogger Abi said...

This warming thing is a give-and-take exercise; you warm them, they provide you with a little insulation on a small bit of you - probably the bit where the most heat is escaping. It's all about perspective, you see.

Now put yourself in Bertie's slippers - if you had gone out in the wet against all common sense, you would also want to get warm as quickly as possible. Imagine being quietly damp for an hour. Yuk.

Think of how ashamed he must have felt at having displayed such a lapse in judgement. Think of how he must have screwed up every ounce of courage to come in and say 'I need you'.

No need to look so sceptical at me. I was just saying...

11:20 pm  
Blogger Lady Bracknell said...

Er, yes....

5:58 am  
Blogger Dame Honoria Glossop said...

Hmmm, give-and-take? I don't think cats do give and take. Though Buster sometimes gives me dead mice, and takes my favourite cashmere scarf to sit on.

I bet they wouldn't appreciate it if you stood in the shower with all your clothes on, then went and sat on them.

4:30 pm  
Blogger Boogaloo Dude said...

Cats and Senior Managers.

If they want to tell you something, it has to be now - irrespective of what you are doing.

I think it's an attention span thing!! They also share the same apparent fixation with new toys.

6:29 pm  
Blogger laughingattheslut said...

Cats and senior managers don't play with the same toys, do they? If they did you could bring a toy mouse to work and then get away with all kinds of things will the manager was distracted.

11:43 am  
Blogger Lily said...

lol at Honoria. Think I'll try that one with our dog. Or maybe the husband.....

10:42 pm  
Anonymous JackP said...

Ah, but cats can look really cute when they want to.

Although I do admit to a certain displeasure at the regular 'gifts' ours bring home. If only there was some way of getting through to them that we don't actually want half-eaten mice or birds. Now if they could go out and bring back some gammon steaks or something...

8:44 am  
Blogger Ecstasea said...

Hummm, a cat is just like a little child. Both relie on you for care, company and love. In return, they trust and love you.
Children will grow up and take care of themselves, but pets will never grow out of you...how nice it is to be always needed!

6:57 am  

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