If a Cat Wrote a Blog After His Owner Has A Baby...

Today I would like to welcome a guest blogger, my lovely friend Jess from Mummy of Boy Girl Twins. I just had to share this very funny post written very cleverly by her cat Henry. Watch this space, as I speak Toby is penning a reply! 

By Henry, the cat – (pet of twins Harry & Lottie)

Yes that’s me. And yes, I have an unfortunate black mark placed below my nose that makes me resemble a former German dictator. How observant of you. Moron.

I’m sorry for the outburst, but I’ve been having some problems lately. ‘The one that feeds me’ has started writing a blog and says it’s her therapy (although she’s saying each bottle of wine she drinks is too). And so I thought I’d give this blog thing a go too.

It all started when ‘the one that feeds me’ got fat. Really massive, the size of a small shed, and then disappeared for a few weeks. When she returned, ‘the one that earns the money’ was carrying seats that contained two noisy, small things. The ‘noisy things’ stayed up all night, stank, took up lots of room and had ‘the one that feeds me’ running around after them like a loony.

And then it got worse. Then the ‘noisy ones’ moved. Crawling at first – which I could quickly escape from onto a window ledge or something, but now we are in full-on walking/running mode. And they both come at me at once from different directions. So I’m currently being subjected to tail-pulling and being stroked the wrong way all the time. I’m not sure what language they talk either, so I have no idea what they’re planning and I am constantly on red alert.

‘The one with the ponytail’ I can cope with more. She is kind to me – but ‘the one without the ponytail’ is evil. He throws cars at me, chases me and tells on me when I’m scratching at the sofa. I’ve got my eyes firmly on him.

So I don’t get much sleep anymore. And I am tending to spend my days very hungry, because ‘the noisy ones’ can’t be trusted as they can’t keep their chubby little fingers out of my bowls. They’re always getting caught eating my biscuits and splashing in my water so it’s not on the floor as much as it was before they arrived.

And don’t even get me started on the lack of attention I am getting from ‘the one that earns the money’. Gone are the days of our snuggles in front of a good film. If he’s not at work these days he’s either doing something in the garden or he’s off playing golf…(he’s not actually as daft as he looks).

Well I’m getting pretty bored of all of this now. And I don’t feel any better. So thanks for nothing.

I’m off to stare into a bush.