I'm Just Checking That For You

I am not a real boy. I am not a false profit. I am not interested in substandards. I am not being taken out to dinner this evening.

Many times I have been awoken by a cat in my bed. Many time I have been awoken by a wife shouting up the stairs.

Many times I have been awoken by my spawner on the phone. Many times I have been awoken.

Fat.

Currently I occupy that space between the ceiling and the floor, one or other becoming more attractive as the day progresses.

I can only assume assumption.

Ooooh Look! A Kitten!

Pud.

She's our kitten.

Well, I say kitten, but what I mean is cat. She was once our kitten, but now that she has been with us for some time, inexplicably she has become a cat.

In fact, she's a miracle cat, because she can turn tuna into more cat. An amazing feat if ever there was one. So Pud is our own little cat factory. Not for more cats, you understand, just for more cat. She can't excrete kittens, we've had her insides out.

I have always had cats in my life. At one point my parents had four cats and two dogs. I moved out when I went to uni, and I couldn't have a cat for some years. Eventually, however, my girl and I were in a position to get a kitten. Our friend and all-round crony John also lives with us, and his parents' happened to have a pregnant cat. So after much persuation and emotional blackmail I concured that we might, indeed, be ready for a kitten

So Which One To Choose?

Our first choice of kitten was a tiny scrap of a boy, who we named Scorpy. He, however, had the misfortune of a twisted gut and was put down before he could come to us. So RIP Scorpy. There were two others in the litter. A friendly, boisterous fluffy boy, later found to be significantly less male, to the extent of being a girl. And an unsociable girl who spent our visit under an item of furniture. We almost had the 'boy', entitled Fluffy Matrix, but it was his/her sister who came to be our kitten. She was the right choice. She's perfect for us. A long search for a name on which the three of us could agree began, and some days later, we settled with Pud.

Life With Pud

So she is the light of my life, my kitten bitten, my little girl. She sleeps on our bed with us and dribbles when she purrs a lot. Then she shakes her head so she can distribude said drool all over the bed, and more specifically our face. We love her.

When she miaows, she sticks out her very very pink tongue, and closes her very very black lips before she puts her tongue back in. We love her.

When she gets bored in the middle of the night, she likes to wake us up by trying to get on top of our wardrobe, and shouts at us because she can't. It's wonderful to be woken by this noise at half past five. We love her.

She's beautiful, she's stripy, and she's my little girl. I always disliked people calling themselves their pets' mummy, but now I quite understand. She has three mummys here, as John also qualifies. I tried to explain to her once that I wasn't actually her mother, but all I got was a pathetic little miaow, of which she has a great range. I gave up explaining and accepted my position as cat mother. When my parents visit, I always tell Pud to say hello to her gran and grandad. They find me rather humourous.

So, at the mo, that's all about my Pud. I am the proud mother of a beautiful furry daughter. Our firstborn.

Things I often Need to Find

My Love

Alternative Writing Workshop

Mineshaft

Great Gay Game - Story So Far

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