Quantum Of Solace

The clocks have gone back an hour. In sympathy, Millhouse and I have switched to our winter routines. We're woken by Mister stumbling sleepily into the kitchen to put the kettle on for his morning cup of tea. This is our cue to sit strategically in the middle of the kitchen floor whilst directing slightly pathetic but expectant looks in his direction. We know he can't ignore us for very long. For a start we're in his way and if he does, we commence the agitated walking about and posing in annoying positions type behaviour. As the atmosphere of intense hunger builds, his face gradually transforms into a cat food pouch. His ankles, sticking out of the foil bag, looking ever more tasty; turning green for Rabbit, yellow for Chicken or pink for prawn as our desires warrant. However, he usually surrenders before we take meaty matters into our own paws. Annoyingly, though, he doesn't always deliver the flavour we were thinking of. Must improve our thought transference skills.
Breakies over, inevitably we both pop out the jolly old catflap, smacking our chops as we go, to execute necessary ablutions and also to sniff the air. If it's pleasant we'll pass a little time on the patio. Great fun to taunt Bengy the silly woolly woofer next door who stares through the fence uttering doggy snorts and yelps if he spots us. We sit looking disdainfully back at him just to show how daring and unimpressed we both are at his threatening bevahiour. Pah! Over excitable dogs!
After a while, Millhouse, usually saunters off for an adventure in the killing fields while I slink back indoors to select my day's slumber spot. I get enough excitment in my dreams nowadays. I carry out this manoeuvre with extreme discretion so no human will guess where I am. Then it's each back leg up for the full rear end wash before a good long wholesome doze in my feline underworld of sunny mouse chasing exploits.
I think Millhouse comes home mid-morning for his clean-up and doze. The clean-up taking much longer as he has long fur which requires an equally long tongue to deal with it all!
On human work days we don't stir until 4 o'clock when we pop outside to greet the first home-coming pouch face. Food is urgently required at this point for our tummies are hollow again and we will not be ignored else pussy hanky-panky will surely ensue.
Well, then it's evening and it's in and out of the catflap with whatever frequency is appropriate for weather conditions.
Yes, it's tough but we cope. Ooops! Someone's coming home. To the kitchen........


Herky