Classic

Fing has gathered the pets in my bedroom in order to try and introduce culture to the animals of Preachers Lane.

'In your opinion' he asks, 'what was Lucian trying to convey when he wrote "The fly is not the smallest of winged creatures if you compare it with gnats and midges and even tinier things, but it is as much large than those as it as smaller than the bee"?'

'What?','WHAT?' spits Giggsey Girl, the stupid slug face, all cross eyed confusion like a recently awoken victim of catatonia from the window sill.

'Ppprrrooootttt!' says Tutz from the top of the scratchy pole, lying languidly like a small grey furry jellyfish, 'Proooooot!', then shuts down from the conversation to concentrate on the league of insanity that is her world.

Fing stares into nothing for what seems like an age before composing himself for Trotters opinion.

Trotter looks at Fing and says 'I think he's talking out of his fat fucking Greek arse'

Fing holds his head in his paws and despairs. It is at that moment that Fat Boy Faggot speaks from beside the bookcase.

'If you'll excuse me for saying so', he says, 'I've always preferred the Greek'

Morris

Many years ago Captain Skipjack travelled the globe in his frigate. It was hard work in the merchant navy, sometimes the wind and rain lashed the decks in a fury. Sometimes the waves were 150feet high and would toss the frigate around like a matchbox.

Sometimes the salt air would take the skin off your cheeks and sometimes you ran out of loo roll, but you overcame these things, because, afterall, you were in the merchant navy and thats what you had to put up with.

Captain Skipjack survived all the trials and tribulations by befriending a seagull called Morris who lived mainly on the coast of California. Sometimes Morris would come and live on the boat and sit in the rigging and chat to albatrosses.

Morris came to visit the Captain this week but the english seagulls didn't like his accent so chased him out of town.

Attitude

In a former life Fing lived in an eygptian temple where he was worshiped by the devotees of the goddess Bast.

Its no wonder he's got such a bad attitude problem.

The Ginger Junkie

Its way too early in the morning and he can't quite work out why he's alone. But alone he is and he's fucked.

He's bent kind of double listening to music, he's text all his mate's but he's the only one up.

He's drunk all the vodka and the only thing left is a selection of liquers. Try as he might, he can't face it. He knows that this is not the way to amaretto.

So he sits tail twitching. testy as a tarantula with all its legs cut off. There's no catnip left, he's taken it all. All there is is the come down, the being alone with nothing to drink, wired and wide awake.

He can't get no sleep.

Spare Time

When Fing is at dance class and Tutz is at Primark, When Fizzgigg is at self defence lessons and Fat Boy Faggot has gone to the sauna, when Truly Lu is fast asleep and lies gently snoring on the sofa, Trotter likes to listen to the Carpenters.

Trotter doesn't like it when Tutz listens to Gangsta Rap.

He despises MTV.

He cant get his head around Fings samba rhythms and although he listens to the beat of his own drum, finds it a bit spasmodic, and unreliably erratic.

Only with the dulcet tones of Karen can he relax and be at one with the music. Only with the Carpenters can he dance and clap and sing.

'Ohh, Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fillet gumbo

For tonight, I'm a-gonna see my my-my cher a mi-o

Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o

Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou'

Sometimes he forgets himself and suddenly comes to, to find all the other pets’ home, stood staring at him like he's care in the community gone wrong.

Primrose Cottage

Lucas by day-Duncan by night and Captain Skipjack are overjoyed as confirmation of their holiday cottage arrived in the post today.

Lucas by day-Duncan by night cannot ever recall having a holiday as for a very long time he was shut in one room and not allowed out. He imagines that the holiday will be a time of exciting things, like walks and chasing sticks and lots of hugs and kisses and possibly windsurfing.

Captain Skipjack thinks 'THE SEA' and wonders if a week in Skegness will bring on his scurvy and creaking hips...he decides to pack his sowester and galoshes just in case. He sits in the sitting room darning his socks and wonders if he should mend the nets? This is a holiday he reminds himself, there'll be no nets or the rigging, no work to be done!

And so they stand at the back gate barking and wagging their tails till everyone in the entire neighbourhood wishes that they'd fuck off on their holiday today.

A day in the life of....

It is a day much as any other in the Hartley household.

Trotter is sat at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Martha to come home. In the sitting room, on the sofa, Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west, snoozes like a great big lump of black lard.

Fat boy Faggot sits on the top in the kitchen, greedily consuming all of the cat milk before the other cats realize its there.

Upstairs Tutz practices being boneless and lies draped like an old rag on the top level of the scratchy pole.

Outside Fing roles in the dirt like a cat possessed while Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face sits like a gargoyle on the wall waiting to attck strangers.

All, as usual.

Fat Boy Faggot is now throwing up for his greedyness and a lake of white vomit covers the side.

Fing is having a panic attack and is stood on his hind legs peering through the glass of the back door in an angst ridden moment.

Tutz has accidentally slithered off the top level of the scratchy pole and is regaining her composure underneath the bed.

Lulu sleeps.

Trotter waits, like the good little dog he is, saving all his energy to give Martha the welcome she deserves. Oh how he will twirl when she comes.

Bird cat of alcatraz

Tutz sits on the bed staring at the orange wall, slowly kneading the blanket on the bed.

She sits and kneads, kneads and sits.

She makes the chirping sound that is unique to herself and wonders how long it will be before anyone else realises that her claws are stuck in the blanket.

Not letting his disastrous stint as head chef of the Lemon Tree and consequential sacking get him down, Trotter has opened his own bakery.

As a purveyor of fine pastries Trotter is in a league of his own. His Danish are to die for; his Chelsea buns are charming the birds from the trees. There are cinnamon rolls, choux buns, chocolate éclairs and sachertorte. You can choose cheesecake or carrot cake, chocolate cake or coffee cake.

Of course Trotters piece de la resistance is his Fruitcake.

It’s nutty as.

A World of Insanity

Fing was very distressed earlier when he decided to put in some dance practice and found Tutz listening to gangster rap.

He stood there in his newly acquired orange sequinned slacks, towel over one shoulder and stared through slitted eyes at Tutz, who ignored him completely and just sat there rapping, tapping her foot, nodding her head along to the music and just being as completely irritating as she could possibly be.

Fing noticed her new basketball outfit and Von Catz cap and decided that she had probably been smoking crack, and then stormed off downstairs only to find Martha watching MTV Base in the sitting room.

'Where can a cat get some peace and quiet?' he thinks and try’s the kitchen only to stand in stunned astonishment at the door.

Trotter, Fat Boy Faggot and Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face are sitting round a small green baize table and are playing poker. The room is full of cigar smoke and they've hired a pole dancer for the afternoon. Its dark, it’s dingy and looks completely uninviting. They all turn and stare at him in silence through the smokey air then return to the cards and the bourbon. Fing holds his head in his paws and admits defeat; there is only so much a boy can do when faced with such adversity.

He goes upstairs, takes off his new sequinned slacks, runs himself a bath then lays there with a face pack on, trying to calm his fractured nerves.

Pea Soup

In the early hours of the morning i peeled open my eyes to find Fing, perched, precariously, pissing upon a pile of clean washing. If this was not enough he knocked it off the side and pulled it all into a great big pile.

It was way too many P's to wake up to.

Fing

FING may be the cat I cant forget!

Too much trouble or

RRREEEEEGGGGGRRRRREEEEEEEETTTTTTTT!

Oh Fing, my darling boy, my little one

Fing may be the Beauty or the beast

May be the Famine or the Feast,

Fing

Who always seems so happy in a crowd

Whose eyes are so private and so proud

FING

May be the reason I survive.....Oh Fing, my darling FING!!!

In Memory of the Pets of Christmas Past

Trevor was a one eyed siamese with the worst halitosis I have ever encountered in man or beast. He prowled around the flat miowing very loudly and if he wasn't doing that he would be stuck up a tree somewhere, miowing for help.

Trevor was particularly good at opening the fridge door and eating all the bacon. He rather stupidly tended to get in the fridge to eat and was accidentally shut in on several occaisions and would be found shivering with the cold hours later.

In desperation my cousin would buy child locks but to no avail, Trevor could open everyone.

The final straw was Christmas day. My cousin had taken the dogs for a walk and returned to find Trevor sitting on top of the turkey in the middle of the kitchen floor. He had opened the fridge and dragged it out and started to nibble on it when he was discovered by my uncle. Upon my cousins return she found them engaged in battle, my uncle brandishing a rolling pin and the cat hissing and slahing at him with his claws.

They gave up in the end and had salmon instead.

Alien Invasion

Margo wishes that she was guest pet of the week. Afterall she deserves it.

Not only is she young and like, totally, beautiful in a very small way, she's also on season and is the toast of the Cuddesdon dog community.

Chi wau wau!

Guest Pet Of The Week - Poochies

POOCHIES

Likes: Being pissed on by Labradors and golden retrievers, pressing her slavering jaws up against the windows of high speeding sports cars.

(poochie, poochie, poochie)

Dislikes: pea's, being bitten on the ankle by stoat's

(Poochie, Poochie, Poochie, Poochie)

Age: Older than the hills

(POOCHIE!)

Vital Statistics: White and black, cataracts, 12 inches tall be 16 long.

(p, p, p.....)

Habits and problems: Occasional pissing on bed clothes and foot stools when unhappy. Leaping around in an excitable fashion. Drooling on your foot.

(POOOOCCCHHHIIEEEEEEEE!!!)

Distinguishing features - Occasional cling on's when she has a poo (Rather lively when trying to remove), improbable extensive tongue, no teeth, moults like a cunt.

Conference

Fing has been at a Fishmongers Conference this week. As some of you may be aware he used to work in a sardine canning factory.

Unfortunately he and the foreman never saw eye to eye and Fing was forced to resign. Its a very great shame as he loved that job.

Fing has been discussing new ways to fillet fish. He has talked about depletion of cod stock and fresh water salmon farms. He has joked with the fishmongers and swapped fishy tales with them. He thinks that its a great shame that Captain Skipjack isn't attending the conference as he feels he would probably have the best storys to tell, but then remembers that he's still recovering from the weekend and all the rum and probably wouldn't have been the best guest speaker afterall.

Last night he sang on the kareoke and amazed everyone with his samba dancing. He drank white wine spritzers and chatted up the bar maid. He then realized that he was far more drunk than he had imagined so snuck off to his room where, this morning, he woke up in the bath.

The Louder you Scream

Trotter loves to twirl around and around and around. He is a whirling dervish as he spins.

Sometimes he spins to the left, sometimes to the right.

Unfortunately he hasn't mastered the act of whirling, which if done properly would put him in a trance, releasing him from his body, enabling him to conquer dizziness. A lot of the time he ends up lurching off mid spin and ends up head butting the wall.

Sometimes he actually catches his tail and then cant let go and can be seen, scutteling sideways down the hall like a crab.

Disco

Lucas by day, Duncan by night wishes he could come to the school disco. He still, afterall, has his old school cap, somewhere.

Where? he wonders in an abstract fashion? Is that what i've been looking for all this time?

It's not in the corner and its not on the floor, its definately not on the wall. Is it by the back gate? Is it in his basket along with his novelty tyre?

such things are sent to try a dog he decides.

Perhaps he could pop on Ezra's discarded grey socks? Perhaps he could wear shorts and a blazer?

Perhaps it would be easier by far to forget about the school disco and sit by the sofa and stare into the corner for the next 3 hours. He decides to ask Captain Skipjack what to do but unfortunately he's drunk on dark rum and is singing sea shanties on the sofa.

Corner it is.

Saturday Morning

Fing is lying in the bath with an ice pack on his head.

He is hanging out of his arse.

Friday Night

The coven is packed, its a squeeze to get through to the balconies past the top dancefloor. Its hazy and smoky and the music is banging. The further back you get into the club the darker it gets with just the lights and the strobe lighting the dingy darkness.

There is the thud, thud, thud, of the music, and the flash, flash, flash of the lights, and then you see him, dancing his crazy samba dream on the dancefloor! It's Fing and he's on FIRE!

Everyone's saying 'where does that crazy cat get his moves?' Everyone watches with envy as he slinks his stupid furry body round the dance floor, weaving in and out, in a world of his own he dances like there is no tomorrow, he trips the light fantastic!

Trotter watches from the balcony wishing he looked that good on the dancefloor.