Fang Face

Sometimes Truly Scrumptious Lulu stands and stares.

Sometimes Truly Scrumptious shuffles from foot to foot and emits a strange grunty whining noise, if such a thing could possibly exist.

Sometimes she moves a step forward and attacks your foot with a totally scrapy paw.


She won't jump up, god forbid!

She won't jump up because she has an agenda.

She wants to sit in your place and she won't give up until you move.

Move! For the dog!

Is there any need?

Royal Wedding.

At last Fings flower arranging skills have been recognized for the genius that they are.

Fing has been asked to do the arrangements at the latest royal wedding. There he will tweak the roses and prune the privets and a myriad of other florist fancies.

There will be glads and chrysanthemums, lilies and cactus, tulips, daisies, orchids and sweetpeas. Being a genius he will incorporate palms and dates, oranges and bananas, and perhaps throw in a pineapple for good measure.

It will be a veritable cornucopia of delights.

Trotter will be invited along after the main event (in the capacity of professional maniac) to run amok in the marquee pulling all the plants and flowers out of their pots.

Somebody stop me.

Those of you that know me will know that I am in a permanent state of Late.

I am never on time and I run aimlessly through life like a headless chicken.

So, one day I am running late for a job interview in Jericho. As usual I am completely unprepared, not only have I not decided what to wear of course I haven't ironed anything.

I finally decide what to wear, have a bath, get dressed then run into my room for some shoes, only to skiddy all across the room in one of Trotters poo's. In my tights.

Of course, being so late and with nothing else ironed I was forced to put my tighted foot in the sink and wash off the poo then dry it off with a towel.

Martha

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR MARTHA!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!!!!!

Lots of Love from

TROTTER!, Lulu, fING, Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug Face, TUTZ and FAT BOY FAGGOT!!!!!

HURRAH!

Whats this?

We spent some time living with the derangement that is Trotter before we realised that the only thing he will respond to are the words ' What’s This!?! ' said in a loud and excitable voice.

' What’s this!?! ' can be used in a variety of ways:

1. To stop Trotter barking in the Garden
2. To stop Trotter attacking people as they leave the house
3. To stop Trotter eating the post
4. To stop Trotter chasing Faggot up the stairs
5. To stop Trotter from barking at the doors

One day Martha had taken Trotter out for a walk and decided to try a ' What’s This!?! ' to see if she could get him to let go of a large branch that he was tugging on, trying to pull it off the tree.

' What’s This!?! ' she said in a loud and excitable voice, then realised she was on his deaf side, so very carefully worked her way round to the right.

' What’s This!?! ' she said in a loud and excitable voice, which caused Trotter to let go of the branch, which promptly sprang back smacking Martha straight in the face, very nearly knocking her over.

We have only used ' What’s This!?! ' with prudence ever since.

Faggot, a History

In a former life Fat Boy Faggot was a member of the S.A.S..He felt no fear as he parachuted in over enemy lines carrying his own body weight in provisions and equipment.

He considered it no object to attack tank regiments in extreme desert conditions, or to spend days wading through swamps breathing through a reed.

He has defused bombs, interrogated suspects and rescued fuckwit Christians form horrific dungeons across the globe.

After a career of bravery for which he was awarded the F.C. (Feline Cross) he retired and now lives in a maisonette in Oxford.

Lucas by Day, Duncan by Night

The early bird catches the worm

Fing spent the early hours of this morning practising his jumping.

First of all he did some standard jumps from the bed to the floor, from floor to the toilet top, out of the bath, onto the floor.

He then picked up the pace with some intermediate jumping, from window sill to top of wicker laundry basket to floor. From the top level of the scratchy pole, to the second, to the third, to the floor.

He limbered up and prepared himself for some truly advanced jumping which involved landing with different expressions on his stupid furry face.

When he leapt at the third shelf in the airing cupboard and missed, he affected an air of surprise as he landed on the floor to be covered in clean towels from the shelves above.

When he attempted a running jump with the aim of landing, standing, and balancing on top of my precarious boot box pile, he failed in the balancing and knocked it all to the ground. For this he tried to look innocent as he nonchalantly walked away.

His grand finale was a spring from the far end of the dresser, twitching his tail as his jump gathered momentum. He sprung like a coiled viper! His initial spring brings him to the other end of the dresser at which point he bundles his body into a dive bomb, to land, smack bang, in the middle of my stomach.

I couldn't see the look on his face at this point because the little fucker ran off and hid under the bed.

The Last Kiss Goodnight

It all went horribly awry in the sitting room last night. There we were all watching Holby when Trotter stands and stretches.

Perhaps I should explain that on occasion Trotter will stand, then sit back down and lean against you, resting his head on your shoulder.

So Martha didn't think it unusual to feel a pressure on her shoulder and turned, with a smile on her face, to kiss Trotter on the head.

Tragically for Martha and tragically for Trot he was still in mid stretch and it was his little furry backside that was resting on Martha's shoulder.

I don't know who was more surprised to be honest.

TROTTER AND FING!!!!!!

Fat Boy Faggot

Cephalapod

Captain Skipjack looks out the window and watches the cars drive by.

He Sighs.

It is difficult to be a salty old sea dog when there is no sea.

It is difficult when you are used to having a bitch in every port to have only a potty retriever for company. He looks at Lucas by day - Duncan by night, who has been staring at the wall for the past three hours, and sighs.

It is difficult being renowned for your tuna sniffing abilities when there are no fish. No squid. No whales. No dolphins. No ships cat to chase up the rigging. Sigh.

On the other hand, he thinks, at least here my hips don't creak. At least here I'm not thrown overboard for fun to wrestle with sharks. And of course, I'm over the scurvy, he runs an experimental tongue around his new false teeth and thinks it could be worse.

He gets up from the chair and, all overcome with a sense of happiness and wellbeing, stands and humps the air for a few minutes.

It's a dog’s life.

Trotters Bush

As you may be aware Trotter is a very keen gardener. He is particularly fond of a spot of light pruning and loves nothing better than grabbing any pot plant and vigorously shaking it until it is destroyed.

Trotter loves the garden, he loves to rip up plants and stand at the bottom and bark indiscriminately through the fence. He particularly likes it when the neighbour’s children poke their heads through the lattice and ask if Trotter is allowed to come and play.

But of all his favourite things one thing stands above all others. The green netting that at one point lined the inside of all the fencing. Trotter felt that the green netting had his name on it and was his to do what he liked with. So it was that I found him tugging in a determined fashion on 3 foot of netting that was smothered in sweet peas. What to do? In a flash of inspiration I stood on the netting, only to be jerked across the garden like some magic carpet ride gone wrong.

Who could imagine that a small shabby dog of only 1 and a half stone could of pulled a person of 12 stone all the way across the garden? And he still wouldn't let go.

In the end we had to wave his dinner bowl over his head to make him let go. And so it is such that Trotter now has his pig pen on the porch, where he can stand and look at the garden and the potted plants and the green netting, but not actually be able to touch any of it.

Poor TROTTER.

AAARRRRIIIBBBAAAAA!!!!!

Fing gazes at his favourite samba picture and wonders where one could buy orange beaded slacks and a matching band for a black hat.

He stops to consider if Trotter could be persuauded to don feathers and a g-string but decides against it. He feels certain that Trotters skanky dreadlocks would distract him from the dance as they would definately not be contained by a g-string.

Logo

Spring is in the air

Trotter likes to stand by the open back door and sniff the air. Sometimes the smell in the air will make him mutter to himself in a grumbling fashion and sometimes it makes him bark. Sometimes he just sniffs and sniffs and sniffs as the breeze ruffles his little grey Mohican, he closes his eyes and smells all the lovely smells and stands with his compact little terrier body completely blocking the way.

The cats, needless to say, hate this, as they can't get past him and are forced to sit in an orderly queue behind him and wait for him to move. These cat jams occur quite frequently over the weekend and can end in tears as Fing does not understand or care that patience is a virtue. Fing cannot comprehend why Trotter needs to sniff the air for so long, stupid dog, so he attacks him with a nasty right paw poking him in the back.

Poor Trotter.

Sandwich breakdown.

I was making my sandwiches for work this morning, as you do, and I turned away from the bread board, for like a split second, to get the mayo out of the fridge.

You can imagine my dismay when I turned round to find Fat Boy Faggot and his great big fat furry butt cheeks sitting on my bread?

Well, i've bought sandwiches now. Mind you, it could of been worse, it could of been the time that I went to get my sandwiches out of my bag at work only to find that my boy, Fing, had pissed in it. Vile.

I love your coconuts

Trotter sits and watches Fing as he gets ready for his Samba dancing classes and thinks 'I bet you look good on the dance floor'. Trotter has an epiphany and realises that he really likes the Artic Monkeys and shoot's off into town to buy the CD.

Fing waxes his whiskers, straightens his bandana and practises a few walking samba steps whilst listening to Englebert Humperdink's 'Quando, Quando, Quando'. He wonders if he has yet captured the knee action, body sway and pendulum motion required to make his dancing look effortless and carefree?

He twists and turns, throwing in some slip action, then a turn, forwards, then a back motion! In this crazy like a fox samba dream he holds Carmen Miranda in his arms and he's wearing a large headdress covered in plastic fruit.

Footsie watches from under the bed and wishes Fing would fuck off so she can finish waxing her bikini line.

Thursday morning 1am

It was dead quiet on the estate last night, unusually quiet. All you could hear was the occasional car driving by in the distance. It was so quiet that when someone walked through I could almost feel the vibrations from the tip tap tip of her heels.

So the singing became apparent from very early on, I could imagine that they (whoever they were) must be up by the Westgate somewhere. Whoever they were they were obviously very very drunk and they were getting nearer and nearer the estate.

We get lots of the exceptionally drunk shambling through our estate as it’s the main walkway down to South Oxford. Although most of the time its students that cause the noise, a good part of the time it’s the neighbours, well me and Varne mostley. (Funnily enough, if it’s the neighbours or me and Varne being noisy every one turns a blind eye, but if its students all hell breaks loose.)

So I’m listening to the singing as it gets closer and think Student/Neighbour/Varne? It sounds like they, whoever they are, have stopped outside Varnes to sing under the lamp post. You can’t make out any words, it’s just very loud.

I hear a strangulated 'SSSHHHUUUTTTTT UUUPPPP' from an indiscernible point on the estate and decide to sneak into Martha's room and have a butchers out the front window. Like, the shame.

Its only TROTTER and Fing pissed up on their way home from Bingo.

Can you cope?

Who said romance is dead?

One day Martha decided to read a book. She stood for some time looking at the bookshelves and occasionally pulling one out to read the back cover. She took her time, as you would, carefully choosing.

Trotter stands behind her bristling and almost jumping up and down on the spot. Because Trotter hates paperbacks, not just dislikes, HATES paperbacks, you are not to read them, nor to touch them. On a bad day you can't read the paper either but he never minds a hard back....

So Martha, satisfied with her choice sits down only to have Trotter leap upon her and attack the book.

This might not have been such a messy story if Martha had not injured herself in a freak ironing accident which had bought on her 'Trotter - elbow' which in turn had left one arm completely immobile and encased in tubi grip.

Poor Trotter has lost control of his frenzied attack and is so overwrought that he starts to hump the injured arm, 'Get OFF, Get Off you dirty Dog! Screamed Marth in desperation as she couldn't shake the little blighter off! She hit him round the head with the paper back but still he humped!

Poor Marth was there for 10 minutes before he calmed down.

Poor Martha.

Poor TROTTER.

Late Night Snack

At just about quarter to ten last night a suspicious rustling came from the hallway so TROTTER went to investigate.

Someone had forced an Indian Restaurant Menu through the door and TROTTER trotted into the room with it before sitting next to Martha with it in his mouth. Obviously we know better than to disturb the boy when he is concentrating so we left him to choose his order in peace.

After 5 minutes of careful shredding and chewing he stood up and very carefully put a scrap of paper in Martha's lap.

'What's his order' I asked in excitement?

'He wants a chicken Jalfreizi apparently' said Martha, who then spent a few moments trying to get the spittle encrusted scrap of paper off her fingers.

Gladrags and Handbags

Sometimes Axl hates being the biggest dog in the world. It is difficult to play gently when your legs are 3 foot long and tipped with sharp claws. Its difficult to play when you are the size of a pit pony and you can knock people over just by looking at them.

You get shouted at when you jump on the bed to say good morning and knock the wind out of people by landing on their stomachs. You get shouted out when you leap onto bare limbs and scratch them open with your claws. You really get shouted at when you nip people out of excitement.

But the worst thing in the world, truly the worst thing, is that its a total bitch getting shoes to fit you.

Teeth of the Unexpected

Trotter lay fast asleep on his blanket dreaming happy dreams. He dreamed of when he was young and was allowed off his lead and would listen for the trains as the sped past the nature reserve. He remembers what it was like to run, run like the wind with his paws thundering through the grass and the wind in his face.

In his dreams he doesn't have epilepsy. In his dreams he can do all the things that other dogs do. He can chase trains and he can run round and round in big circles with Truly Scrumptious. He can run aimlessly into flocks of crows and scare them all away. He can fetch balls and go exploring in the bushes.

And so he dreams, fast asleep, little white paws twitching slightly on his cosy blanket.

It is tragic that the slightly twitching paws have drawn the attention of Fat Boy Faggot who sits watching the sleeping boy with dispassionate eyes. Faggot wonders why Trotter is tap dancing and cannot recall discussing dancing lessons. He watches calmly with a studied intent disinterest before slowly standing.

You see Fat Boy Faggot loves Trotter with all his heart. He LOVES him in great big capital letters that sparkle and shine. Behind the dispassionate eyes is a heart that overflows with adoration for the boy. So he walks very carefully until he has positioned himself behind Trotters head. He pauses for a second as if listening to Trotter sleep, then slowly, with infinite care, bites Trotter on the neck.

Trotter literally leaps into the air. It’s a bit of an over reaction, it’s almost as if Fags just jabbed him with a cattle prod. Fag just sits there staring at the boy with half lidded eyes, purring like a tiger, wondering if he could get another little nibble in.

Trotter looks at Faggot with wary eyes and thinks that too much love will hurt you, everytime.

Tresses of the Unexpected

'Aslan is on the move' text my friend Fridge Paul.

I didn't like to tell him that Fing has taken to wearing a blonde wig in public.

Trolly of the Unexpected.

One day Varne went to Sainsburys with her lovely tartan shopping trolly.

She pushed it all the way to the lift then stood next to it as they went up 3 floors. She pushed it through the shopping centre and then up to the fag counter to buy her fags. She put a basket on top of the trolley and pushed it round the shop.

She got to the checkout and unloaded all the shopping then pushed the trolley past the cashier and opened it to put the shopping in. At the bottom of the trolley looking up at her was Ginge, her ginger tom.

'Oh, you cunt' she said.

Fat Boy Faggots proverb of the day

Fools leap where angels fear to tread.

Truly Lulus proverb of the day

I can have my cake and eat it too.

Giggsey Girls proverb of the day

The pen is mightier than the sword.

Captain Skipjacks proverb of the day

Red sky at night shepherds delight, red sky in morning TUNA ON THE STARBOARD BOW!!!!!!

Lucas by days proverb of the day

whats a proverb?

Fings proverb of the day

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

TROTTER's proverb of the day

Lock up your daughters the axeman is coming.

The Ides of

On blustery, blowy March Days Truly Scrumptious Lulu likes to fly a kite from the back garden.

She has a beautiful kite in the shape of a dragon with Bright Blue Wings and an emerald body. All the other pets on the estate are very jealous of the Dragon Kite as they watch it weave and dance in the blustery wind.

One day a team led by the big black cat that no body likes tried to sneak into the garden and startle Truly into dropping the string to the kite. It was a foolhardy venture doomed to failure from the start. Who were they to know that Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face was on guard duty that day? Who were they to know that she had set up an elaborate and intricate system of trap wires and had dug pits filled with sharp stakes? Who could have imagined that’s such a small black cat could have done so much? Not the team led by the big black cat that no body likes, that’s for certain.

Some cats were flung from the garden as they tripped wires, some narrowly avoided being impaled in the pits, some ended up in the rowan tree and some got stuck in the fence, a lucky few escaped with nothing but their dignity intact.

It was a tragedy. Tragic because if the had of done any reconnaissance they would have known that Truly Scrumptious Lulu could not have dropped the string if she tried, for she doesn't hold it in her mouth. Oh no. Truly Scrumptious Lulu ties the string that holds the kite around her chubster chubby tum and uses her not inconsiderable bulk to stop the kite from blowing away. That way she can look up into the beautiful blue skies and watch her beautiful Dragon Kite without a care in the world.

The big black cat that no body likes was sent to Coventry for a week after the ill fated attack and the other cats went home to lick their wounds and pretend they had never been involved.

Bookworm

TROTTER spent the best part of last night removing the front covers of paperback books.

No! No, it's not Trotwear gone wrong! heaven forbid!

It's just that TROTTER has a problem with paperbacks.

Trotwear

Trotter has developed his own range of Soft Furnishings, Accessories, Clothing and Shoes.

Should you desire the latest in newly savaged standard lamps then TROTTER is the Dog to see.

• He can shred your cushions and tear up your throws.
• He can pull over lamps and chew up the shades.
• He can piss up your furniture and poo in your rooms.
• He can re-design expensive designer footwear and toss pillows in the air.
• He can nibble at your ankles and create individual and exciting bite marks in your jeans.
• He will get in your wardrobe and ravage your bags.
• Leave your sunnys on the table and he will snap them in two.

Trotwear, for all those who want to emulate living in a squat and looking like a Jakey.

Trotwear.

There is no sense.

Around the Horn

Travis tells Lucas by Day - Duncan by night that he used to be a sailor. He was a member of the Merchant Navy and was skipper to a frigate that sailed around the Cape of Good Hope to Oceans far away.

'Wow'. Says Lucas by day - Duncan by night.

'Oh Yes', says Travis, why do you think I am known as Skip Jack Tuna, Mayo on the side? I was renowned for my ability to sniff out tuna, no matter how fierce the storm, no matter what time the night, even if they were disguised as frenchmen, I could sniff them out them out and dip them in Mayo before you could say......skip jack tuna, mayo on the side!'

'WOW!'. Says Lucas by day - Duncan by night.

'Oh Yes', says Travis, but then the cold and the damp gave me arthritic hips, and what with the scurvy and the waves I decided to retire. So I packed up all my belongings and crippled to shore. The Navy were very good, they sent me to the Blue Cross to recover and to hopefully find a good home where they didn't mind salty old sea dogs with creaking hips and wind in their main brace. And in fact, After all those years at sea with the wind in my fur, after all those years of far away places, of a bitch in every port, I have decided that I actually prefer being a landlubber.'

'And this is because I have discovered that there is, in fact, nothing better than spinning around in a crazed and excitable manner in the sitting room.'

He looked across at Lucas by day - Duncan by night and was in no way surprised to find him on the otherside of the room staring intently at a minute part of the wall.

http://www.bluecross.org.uk/web/site/AboutUs/About_Us.asp?menuID=-1&MenuItemID=18&MenuType=PAGE

Frank

Wearing a leather jacket, leather cap and leather chaps does not make you a muscle mary said Fing as he tried on his new leather harness and stroked his luxuriant black moustache.

Marbles

Lucas by day - Duncan by night stares at the floor. He remembers a time when there was something there.

Was it a fly? He thinks to himself. Perhaps it was a flea? he tries to remember as he stares at nothing and the time slowly passes by.

Flea? Fly?

Fly? Flea?

Or was it a frog? He smiles to himself and thinks, dont be so stupid, of course it wasn't a frog. Frogs live in ponds where there is water and weeds, not in living rooms, not in the dry.

And with that happy thought he shot off down the back stairs to stand and stare at the wooden gate instead.

A day in the park

Trotter had a very active day on Sunday in which he took to the estate to play with the children.

Fing watched from the kitchen window as Trotter raced past pulling Dane on his skateboard. Fing watched from the back window as Trotters played tag with some smaller children.
Fing decided not to watch when Trotter went to the basketball court with his new yellow ball.

Fing entertained himself by flicking a bit of straw around in the hall and pretended that he hadn't missed Trotter at all when he got home.

The Weekend

TROTTER and Fing are going nightclubbing this weekend to celebrate Charlie Lips 21st birthday.

TROTTER has combed his hair and bought a new pair of spangly hotpants to wear and Fing is going in leather chaps with his newly grown black moustache (He has to be careful not to be recognized now the ASBO is in place)

The Cat I Cant Forget

One Saturday morning Milly Pav took a bath at my house.

Unfortunately as Milly sang to himself in the bath Fing forced himself into the bathroom, quiet as a mouse. Fing re arranged some towels on the floor then departed with his malicious mind, smiling to himself like the cat who had got the cream.

Tragically the re arrangement of the towel had exposed a rather large cat poo into which the unsuspecting Pav trod as he stepped out of the bath.

What can I say?

My pets are animals.

Oh Happy Day

Sometimes you can tell TROTTER is really happy when he suddenly appears out of no where and runs round the coffee table 3 times.

We have come to learn that this means he's had a big poo upstairs.

ASBO

Fing Hartley
AGE 10
Oxford

Fing Hartley has been made the subject of an Anti-Social Behaviour Order until 06/02/2008.

He risks arrest and could be jailed if he breaches this order.

What He Did.......

• Walked into peoples homes and sprayed up against their furniture
• Shat in other people's shrubberys
• Pissed in people's bags
• Miowed loudly at night
• Rode motorcycles inappropiately

The Result

The courts have made an Anti-Social Behaviour Order (ASBO) against Fing Hartley until [06/02/08], which states:

Fing Hartley is prohibited from:

• Spraying
• Shitting
• Pissing
• Stunt motorcycling
• Talking to other cats his own age in large groups on street corners.

Call us with confidence - in confidence

Lets refuse to accept crime and anti-social behaviour in our area.

Vancancies

Small Grey Cat with eyes like saucers and a pan-face seeks gainful employment.

Previous experience includes

• Lurking in airing cupboards
• Disturbing strangers by appearing suddenly in the dark
• Pretending to be horrifically startled by your appearance even though she knew you were coming up the stairs
• Thundering around like a baby elephant
• Looking cute by lying on her back then disembowelling the hand of anyone stupid enough to try and stroke her
• Making strange chirping sounds, unique to herself
• Hiding under beds in order to attack your feet

Any offers given due thought and consideration.

Open Door

Fing is by far quite the cleverest cat in the world. Apart from his doctorate in advanced quantum physics and diploma in baking he is also a practising escapologist.

He can force his feline frame through any gap, no matter how tiny.

He can bully his way past the stiffest frame by pushing with all his might.

He can open the door and windows and can even turn the key in the lock with his tiny furry paws.

Unfortunately he actually hates being outside so we have to let him back into the house constantly, almost like having a giant fur ball as a yo-yo.

Doris

Trotter and Fing have just retruned from a trip to Norfolk in Fings Ferrarri. They had travelled to the Hillside Animal Santuary to see their sponsered animal Doris the Duck.

They reminisced about when Hillside first opened and the kind owners used to knit tiny wollen pullovers to stop the ex-battery hens getting frost bite on their little naked extremities. They took a walk around the paddocks and chatted to the horses and pigs.

Then a stranger tried to make off with them thinking that they too were little rescue animals. Obviously this kind individual didn't realise that Trotter and Fing are ex superhero's and are probably the least likely animals in the world to be rescued. Trotter explained that they had a home to go to , and pointed out the shiny ferrarri and so the altruistic stranger adopted a goat instead.

http://www.hillside.org

Family

As you know, Trotter is an orphan. He has led a lonely and confused start to his life, filled with uncertainty about who he is and where he come's from. Thankfully some family members from madagascar contacted the British Red Cross and they in tern sent these family photo's on to Trotter

http://www.arkive.org/species/GES/mammals/Daubentonia_madagascariensis/

It has helped him a great deal knowing that he has family out there that care for him, and that he could go to live with if he wanted, as afterall, its not pleasant living in a house full of alcoholics with heavier footfall than most city centre pubs.

(Mrs Warboise is not an alcoholic, although she will to partake in a small glass of sparkling wine with us at the weekends, then sits there quiety watching the parade pass before her. Last week she found a vibrating cock ring in her coat jacket, but thats a story for another day)

Ear ache

Trotter bit me in the hall way last week.

He didn't mean to bite me, he was aiming for the pizza delivery man so I guess it was quite fortunate that my leg was in the way. And it wasn't his fault, I mean if the betterware delivery man hadn't of had such a large sack the accident probably would never have occured.

So, anyway, I just thought i'd let you know that Trotter entertained himself with barking this weekend.

He spent quite some time barking at the vases in the grate. He escaped into the main body of the garden and barked at the sky. He ran up and down the stairs and round the coffee table whilst barking at giggsy girl the stupid slug face. He barked in the kitchen, he barked in the hall, he barked in the bedroom and barked at the wall. He tried to bark in the bathroom but this upset Fat Boy Faggot who bit him for his troubles and chased him out the door.

He barked on his walk then barked at his dinner, he barked at Martha and he barked at Truly, he really barked at Varne because she had forgotten to bring him any midget gems. He barked at Mrs Warboise and then he barked some more. At around 9 o'clock he decided that he had had enough of barking for one day and fell asleep on the arm of the chair.

Poor Trotter.

Hey Caramba!

I found Fing in the bathroom shaving his legs. I told him that shaved legs generally don't look good on cats but would he listen?

No, he had a date with a hot tin roof and admitted he had taken up samba dancing.

This despite having 2 left feet.

TROTTER the dog

He's got beautiful eyes and furry thighs and a wiggly behind his name is TROTTER.

TROTTER the dog.

Remember the Alamo

Once upon a long ago Martha decided to turn the kitchen into a greenhouse.

As you are aware, when Martha gets an idea in her head it has to be acted upon immediately . As a result she didn't think about Fing when she covered the entire side in newly potted pot plants. She didn't think about the bag of compost left incautiously undone on the top. She didn't stop to consider the box of cat biscuits in the middle of everything, surrounded by a sea of seedlings. No.

She didn't pause for a moment to consider my boy, watching with a malevolent eye from the dishwasher. She forgot my boys obsessions and his naughtyness and unwisely walked away. She left him looking with longing at his beloved biscuits trapped by unknown things, almost a million miles from his touch. Almost, No.

He set out to upset her, as afterall he was upset. He landed in the seedlings and then scattered them with his paws. He knocked over his biscuits and pushed them off the side. He found the incautious compost and threw it to the floor. Then he took his malevolent mind and lept down and mixed everything up as if he was making a cake. He made a mound of compost and did a great big poo like a cherry on top before upsetting the water bowl and walking mud all over the house.

He considered it a job well done, then started on the brandy.

Fings Ferrarri

Sometimes Fing likes to take a look at the Guardian crossword.

Sometimes Fing likes to drive his Ferrarri to the Coast.

Sometimes Fing likes to visit his M.P. and discuss the price of fish.

Sometimes Fing likes to take a sun bed, but most of the time?

Most of the time Fing likes to piss on your parade because thats the type of complete and utter shithead that he is.