Charlie the Cat

I love my little cat you know. He makes me smile, I shake my head sometimes wondering just what the hell he's thinking- (now don't any of you say that that cats are stupid cos they have, relatively speaking, a bigger brain than a dolphin & in research tests have shown that they have a longer memory than dogs)- & I think he has the right way of living-

-He finds the warmest place & dozes, muses as he watches the world go by, eats then goes for a nap, has a bit of fun with the odd rat (sometimes bring me a dead one as a gift), flirts with the street lady cats &, more power to him, stands no crap from any other tom who comes onto our back garden.

But for the moment his activities & style has be barred by approx' 10cm of snow. He did try & lick the icicle I put in front of him but he looked at me as if to say "you wot mate?" "Are you totally mad?" He refuses to go out except for a brief stroll around the estate & a pee first thing in the morning. When I return home after being out shopping, struggle out of the layers of clothes I'm wearing & finally remove my big boots, he looks at me as if I'm a sandwich short of a picnic.

So Chas' spends his days dozing, watching the cars slide up & down the street & listening to my Memphis Slim CD, or to Classic FM. Though he did leave the room when I put on Gorecki's symphony of Sorrowful Songs CD. ( I must ask the wife to interpret that bit of behaviour!)

As I type now he lies supine on the bean bag my friend John left me. Unconscious in sleep & attitude(s) to the stresses of the world next to the central heating radiator. Though I suspect he has a notion that the temperature outside is -8C.

So come on God, this weather ain't funny anymore. Its cold, wet & Charlie's style is cramped. And I want to make some Blackberry & Vanilla jam but am unable to get to the shed to retrieve my jam jars cos of the snow.