ASIO ACTIVITY REPORT

DATE: TUESDAY
TIME: 10.30 AM
NAME: MR PADGE
STATUS: BUSY





DATE: TUESDAY
TIME: 10.30 AM
NAME: MR POOTER
STATUS: EXTREMELY BUSY



WARNING: INCREASE IN ACTIVITY WILL RESULT IN BUSY-NESS OVERLOAD. POSSIBLE IMMINENT FELINE MELTDOWN. DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT SHAKE THE CRUNCHY BOX. THIS IS A MATTER OF NATIONAL IMPORTANCE.

In other news, cats are also busy.

Watch the cat with the big fat rat

This was a great day for Padge; he came home with not just one, but THREE rats. Unfortunately he hadn't caught them, he'd found them in the next-door-neighbour's shed, and they'd been poisoned. The look on his face when we put them in the bin was baleful. But Mr Padge is a very forgiving cat, unlike his brother Mr Pooter, who can stay grumpy for hours.

They have a great hunting relationship, these two. Mr Pooter catches the mouse, Mr Padge eats the mouse. Not that we have any more mice round the house anymore!

The pleasure of hearing Gemma squeak

We were kittens once, and very cute ones too...



P: The sun was nice that day, beside the front door.





P: Gawd, you're such a camera hoor. Note my demure stance. Not that it made any difference, you always got the attention...

P: I did not!

P: It's not a matter of DID. You still do!

P: Piffle. It's all in your head. You're always sitting on her lap.

P: And you're always sitting on his.

P: Well, he's the right size for me.

P: You can say that again...

P: Are you calling me fat?

P: Not if it makes you run to mummy...

P: ...

P: anyway, I think I was the cuter kitten. Let's show Gemma something else:



P: Oh, did you have to bring that up? The one time I fall into water...

P: Heh. It was so funny.

P: Well, look at this:



P: Oh you bugger. Where did you find that?

P: Same place I found this:



and this:



P: You just wait, Mr Padge. You'll get yours one day...



P: Well, stop being snarky, kiddo... Gee, it's a nice day today!


What do you think, readers? Who WAS the cutest kitten?

Humph.

She decided to make up a blog to practice her skills, and she dragged us into it. Honestly, as if making us wait for crunchies until the doorflap is locked isn't bad enough.

Oh well, we're here now.

I'm Padge, apparently, and I'm lying at the floor at her feet, hoping that if she looks down at me I can roll and look cute enough to get some fresh crunchies. Problem is, she'll probably put that wet slop in my bowl. Ugh. That stuff is for kids like Pooter.

I'm Pooter, and I wish I wasn't. What a crap name to give someone as intelligent as me. I'm sitting on the spare office chair behind her, in the classic Roast Chicken pose, hoping to remind her that I need feeding. I hope she doesn't put out more crunchies. I yearn for some nice salmon & chicken, or something soft and succulent. Look at that stupid cat. Now he's copying me, sitting like a chicken. Sigh.

We know what she's doing. She's making us out to have 'personality types'. The man is worse. He gives us funny voices. Totally undignified. He's not home yet. I wonder where he is and if he'll feed us as he comes in?

Oh, don't mind us. It's been a bad mood day. try again tomorrow, you might get some sweetness and light out of us. But only if we're fed.