The life of Riley…

Those cats have the life of Riley, I tell you, lazy beasts.  They get to sleep upstairs, unlike me who is barred, and then spend the days sleeping anywhere they like while I’m up and about racing on the beach.  The most exercise I’ve seen that Marley do is jump in and out of a window.  And Cleo only seems to exercise her vocal chords, miaow, miaow, miaow, all the time.

See what I mean:

IMG_1772 IMG_1776An appropriate song –


The ultimate indignity

IMG_1761Holy moley, this has to be the ultimate indignity – a cat in my bed!  Marley in MY bed.  It’s not enough that he has free rein to sleep on any of the human beds in the house, on the back of the sofas, the best chair, my mum’s knee – he takes up residence in MY bed.  You could have knocked me down with a feather when I saw him.  My mum told a friend she nearly wet herself laughing but that’s too much information in my view.  She stopped long enough to take photos, of course, to capture my anguish.  Didn’t bother shifting him.

Me shift him?  You have to be kidding – this is a giant cat and I’m a bit in awe of him, kinda scared that he will wop me like Sherry (the former cat) did when I was a youngster.  They have sharp teeth and claws do cats, so I’m always polite in their company.  Best to err on the side of caution.  He had, fortunately, moved by the time we got back from the beach so I was able to dry out on my towel without interference.

The cat did it!

Me andP1090841 Marley are in the doghouse – not literally, we don’t have a kennel, but mum isn’t speaking to us.  Not exactly incommunicado but yelling is definitely not in the speaking range, is it?  Honestly, the cat is the main culprit.

Mum had a delivery of pet food earlier and the box was in the hall.  She unpacked the bags – expensive cat food and cat litter, nothing for me – and took the box outside to the recycling bin.

When she came back the trouble started.

P1090843Marley had scratched open a bag and helped himself!  I scuttled out of the way real quick while he took it on the chin then sauntered off.  Cats have no shame, have they?

The thing is, I then blotted my copybook at dinner by sniffing her pizza – it was only a sniff, honest – while she was out of the room getting a drink.  She caught me red nosed so then I was ‘persona dog grata’ and sent to the corner.   My toy basket is in the corner but I thought it wouldn’t be a good idea to get anything out while she was so mad so I stayed there.  In shame.  It’s all the cat’s fault…