Uncle Simey's Mental Breakdown

Oh dear!  We got to Wednesday, we'd had a bit of play but neither of us were on top form, then Uncle Simey suddenly started sobbing on my shoulder .....

"Waaah Bertieeeeeee" he wailed, "First Lu's ankle, then both my lamps, then my bathroom light and now my TV .... Whyyyyyyyyyy does everything always break!"

Well, I told him to pull himself together.  He's a man like me.  I'm used to Mummy's emotions, I think she calls it PMT.  I actually asked Millie, a girl cat who lives on Anne Street "do female cats suffer from PMT like humans?"  She said "a P.M. tea, of course it's a P.M. tea, it'd be breakfast otherwise.  Lolz Bertz."  She's VERY ANNOYING!  I'd fancy her if I still had my balls.

Good night, Bertie.

Me ; never too emotional

The weekend! And Bertie : ventriloquist

I had a nice surprise on Saturday when Mummy turned up, was great to see her and have a nice cuddle, play, lots of food.  She brought that crazy hairy dog-lover, he seems a nice but excitable chap, wonder if he pushed her off the trampoline, these dog people are like their pets, a bit too eager.

Well, we can't all be members of the master race like me, can we?  (cats I mean, not nazi's, lolling out loud at my own comment).

Not sure how much she approved of Uncle Simey leaving some fresh mackerel in the fridge, but very nice it was!

Back to Monday (26th) and the normal routine resumed with Uncle S coming back in.  An amusing event happened as I was quite hungry and for once, decided to be quite vocal about it (it does seem to take him ages to clean my dish, mash up the food etc,)  Well, he suddenly started looking concerned and rushing to each window, peering through the cat-flap and the door looking for something .......

..... I then realised he thought I was a neighbourhood cat trying to get in for food!  Haha, didn't realise I was such a great ventriloquist.  Silly Simey.  Will have to try it out on Mummy one day.

Master ventriloquist.  "Gottle of Geer!  Gottle of Geer" 

Playtime!

Once Uncle Simey has fed me, I take 5 minutes downtime in my tube just digesting it all, and then we have an intense play session.  This gets worse on a Thursday when he goes to something called "dice night" and thinks he's funny announcing "Bertie, I can only give you 30!"

I'd be happy to play "Ping Pong/tube pounce" all day but Simey likes to spice things up a bit, he shouldn't bother.

Me about to pounce on a naughty ping pong ball

"Fluffy stick wiggle" is all well and good but I prefer to sit on the stick so it can't move around, I don't like the wiggle element.

The "stairs game" becomes a stand off with me sat at top, him at the bottom , neither of us will move first, we just sit there whilst he tries to scare me into action by singing Roughneck Riot songs and pointing at me.

Stairs game = boring

"Jaws" is very lame, Uncle S basically just put that battered old fish ("it's soooo 2014 darling") on the piano and plays some keys and reckons "Jaws" is coming to get me.  Yawn.

I could go on, but my favourite game was on Wednesday this week (21st) when a big spider ran across the hallway and hid under Mummy's slippers.  Uncle Simey also looked excited but I beat him to it, pawed it and ate poor Spidey in one go.  U,S. said he felt sick.  I made a weird noise like a telephone, and kept going back to the same spot, but Uncle would NOT produce anymore spider action.  TYPICAL!

Me going cray cray on scratching post!

 

Sunday/ Monday update - teething problems

Great news all!  Mummy out of hospital.  But it sounds like my good Uncle is going to be popping in to see me for the forseeable future. I'm tired out already, never seen so many ping pong balls bouncing around MY house.  

Few things I'm a bit concerned about.  Firstly, Uncle Simey was only giving me 2 sachets a day but Mummy spoke to him on his green device and said it should be three, and quite right.  Simey relented but said it'd depend if I was eating everything he put down.  He reckoned the local cats might start calling me 'Burstie Bertie' but I think he was trying to be funny.  He's like that.  Earlier, he called me a "muscly bastard".  I decided to take it as a compliment.

On another note, Mummy asked for the thermostat to be turned down to 15.  Errrm hello?  It is middle of winter!  OMG, I was like "just cos I have a fur coat girlfriend, don't freeze me out".  It's okay for her, I've been to Ash Villa and I know how cosy she will be.

Had a good play anyway, lots of ping pong ball/tube action and some top scratching post play to start things off.

On my scratching post

Later on, just when I'd given up hope of another visit, a drunk Uncle Simey rocked up at midnight, covered in snow, giggling and doing impressions of TV person Chris Tarrant.  At least he fed me.  He then chased a ping pong ball around whilst I sat there in horror and eventually lay down in the middle of the carpet.  Very odd.  

The following morning, Grandma Chrissy came round (DOES EVERYONE HAVE A KEY TO MY PAD?) but it was nice to see her.  She brought loads of food and we had a quick play.  I assume Uncle S's hangover had got the better of him, loser.

See you soon, Bertz

Breaking News!

Meow!  Friday 16th Jan dawned in cold, bright sunshine, but with no sign of Mummy - 24 hours since I last saw her, no food timer trays put down, I knew something was up.

My fears were realised about 10am when none other than Uncle Simey arrived in that long black Grim Reaper coat (it'll take some getting used to) so I was almost relieved to hear Mummy had "only" broken her ankle, bouncing on a trampoline appaz!  What on earth?  She's in hospital, had an operation in the night.  Poor Mummy.

Uncle S put some food down (I was absolutely starvieballs!) and we had a bit of a play but his playtime is an intense undertaking and I was still taking all the news in, flippin' heck so I hid in my tube and then at the top of the stairs.  He's coming back later.

Me taking in all the news with crazy fish for company.