Side ways On

There are people that might consider it peculiar, bur recently Fing has become preoccupied with his profile.

Gaff the Horse in Tears

And so he lies, alone.

A salty old sea dog, stretching his limbs.

Some call it yoga, some calentetics.

The Captain calls it drunk on rum, and who are we to question?

Hi Fi

The cats and Trotter have just returned from Hi-Fi festival in the Matterley Bowl in Winchester. They left on Friday afternoon in a small van that Fing had hired for the occaision.

As it had been raining solidly for 2 weeks they took their wellington boots, for fear of getting their tiny furry paws dirty. They arrived on site and spent 2 hours putting their 6 man tent up, it was terribly complicated and at points tempers flared, with Fing lashing Trotter round the back of his head with claws outstretched on a nasty swipey foot.

This done they got out the fold away chairs, put their baskets in the tent and arranged their rucksacks, camping stove, kettle and the tea, coffee, and sugar neatly inside.

As it was Friday there was nothing too do as the festival didn't start until the next day, so they got out a crate of beer, sat in their chairs and got pissed as parrots and talked utter shite to the other campers as they arrived.

Saturday dawned murky and rainy with a hint of mist thrown in for good measure, which Faggot was awfully annoyed about because it meant he couldn't do a thing with his hair. Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face had to have a resolve as she felt rather queasy and dishevilled.

They set off round site and saw many wonderful and amazing things. They saw people in fancy dress, people who were hardly dressed, People who could hardly stand and people who were so fucked they couldn't tell you their own name if you asked them. They had a moment at one of the stalls and all purchased a second hand fake fur jackets then wandered round site for a while in an utterly aimless fashion.

They stopped at the oxygen tent and inserted tubes into their nostrils and had a combination of vodka oxygen and blast oxygen. They wern't quite sure what to expect and were dreadfully dissapointed when all they got was a bit lightheaded from the vodka fumes up their noses. They ate vodka jelly and then all of a sudden the beat from the Electric Arena got hold of Fing, and the cats had to watch as Fing danced his crazy samba moves on the dance floor.

The went to the Live stage, Gods Kitchen and then the drum and bass tent, where they all agreed the music was far too frenetic to dance to. After several hours of hard core drinking they all sidled back to the tent and collapsed with exhaustion.

Sunday dawned with a hint of sunshine and the occaisional menacing cloud. Although he didnt have a headache, Fing took some painkillers, just in case, after all, safety first! They put up the awning and sat in their chairs and made a hot drink and were suddenly surprised by a strange young man.

The strange young man had been up since five and had apparently taken 15 vera's, he told them that he was a professional Hat Judge and said it was their civic duty to find the hat stall. He pulled some really wierd faces and then informed everyone that he could also calculate how many blades of grass there were in the field if only he had the aid of an abacus. At this point he lurched off, slightly to the left, and they all agreed that what ever vera's were they certainly didn't want any if it made you froth at the mouth like a victim of rabies.

The Sunday line up was by far the best, the pets watched Kosheen, then Shapeshifters. They danced to Paul Oakenfold, The Tidy Boys and Lisa Lashes. They danced and danced until their knee's ached, and still they danced some more. Then BK came on and the place went wild.



Tired of it all they decided to walk back and suddenly found the hat stall where they remembered the strange young man and their civic duty. Faggot bought a sailors hat, Fing bought a top hat, Giggsey girl the stupid slug face bought a flat cap and Trotter decided upon a beanie.



Tutz had become completely distracted by the glow sticks on the next stall and purchased some to take home to hang on her scratchey pole, and as a result was harrangued by the strange young man who happened to pass them in passing, lurching slightly to the right.

On the way back to the tent they met the dog who owned the dodgems, and a man dressed in a scooby doo outfit. They saw lots of girls in big fluffy boots, girls with wings on and a young man who was dressed in fab fur chaps and g-string with a large black cowboy hat on.

All in all it was far too much to take in and they went to the tent and collapsed in an untidy jumble of limbs and slept like the dead until 6 this morning when a very grouchy Fing made them all get up so he could drive home and miss the bank holiday traffic.

And where was Lulu I hear you ask? Why, Lulu was at a health farm having manicures and peicures and face packs and saunas. She is a little lady after all.

A foot in the hand is worth 2 in a bush

This morning I looked up from my ironing to find Fing, sitting expectantly, one foot atop his box of Friskies. He was looking at me with such intensity that for a moment I felt like I was in a cat food commercial.

I snapped out of it and went over and poured some into a bowl then turned to find Truly Scrumptious Lulu, front left leg extended as she stretched, tapping her claws on the floor. She looked slightly confused, as if she had once been familiar with Morse code but now couldn't remember the basics.

Trotter

I am what I am
I am my own special creation
So come take a look
Give me the hook
Or the ovation
It's my world
That I want to have a little pride
My world
And it's not a place I have to hide in
Life's not worth a dam
Till I can say
I am what I am

I am what I am
I don't want praise I don't want pity
I bang my own drum
Some think it's noise I think it's pretty
And so what if I love each sparkle and each bangle
Why not see things from a different angle
Your life is a shame
Till you can shout out I am what I am

I am what I am
And what I am needs no excuses
I deal my own deck
Sometimes the aces sometimes the deuces
It's one life and there's no return and no deposit
One life so it's time to open up your closet
Life's not worth a dam till you can shout out
I am what I am

Rainy Sunday Morning

It is pouring with rain and the pets have decided not to go for their normal morning constitutional.

Fing is laying in his lovely double bed, bifocals on, reading 'Hello' magazine.

Lulu is lying on her favourite mound of blankets and old jackets, fast asleep dreaming of cream cakes and ice cream.

Tutz is on her scratchy pole, thinking about rain. Why? she wonders as she looks out the window at the torrential deluge outside.

Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face is downstairs making pancakes, Fat Boy Faggot is asleep in the bath, and Trotter?

Trotter is playing Resident Evil on his xbox and listening to the Gypsey Kings.

Dichotomy

Sometimes there is sunshine, sometimes there is rain.

Sometimes there is darkness, and sometimes there is light.

There are bad days and there are good,

Sadness then happiness, laughter and tears.

wasps and bees, sharks and dolphins.

And then we have Trotter.

Poor Trotter.

Oh, My My!

Fing watches the festival pass before him, He wears a large feathered headdress and a very small outfit comprised of nothing but sequinns. It is not until now that he has understood why so many samba dancers look so surprised.

He has come to discover that a small G - String comprised of nothing but tiny metal sequinns, chaffing between your butt cheeks, can come as a bit of a shock to anyone.

Shoe's

Contrary to popular opinion, Crocodiles do not enjoy being made into shoe's.

They actually prefer playing water polo with the hippo's, eating Wilderbeast Canape's , drinking champagne out of crystal flutes and sunning themselves on the river bank.

The Fete.

The pets had a wonderful day at the Fete.

Tutz and Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face queud for half an hour to go for a pony ride. Trotter is far too impatient to wait in a que, so he went to see the 'Splat the Rat' competition instead.

The pets had arrived just in time for a jive dancing exhibition, so Fing joined up with an old ladie and learned some new steps.

Lulu found the cream tea stall and had eaten 15 scones before any one else found her.

They looked at the home made jams and laughed at the bric a brac on the stalls. They bought themselves old battered straw hats to wear as it was very hot indeed in the sun.

After they had looked at all the stalls, Fing laid out a blanket and they sat in the sun, ate their sandwiches and drank warm pop.

It was a perfect day.

A day at the fete

Today the pets are going to Cuddesdon Village fete. Trotter is sitting impatiently at the door, waiting for Shane to come and pick him up. He doesn't know what he might find at the fete, although Fing has told him there will be a bouncy castle and a white elephant.

Trotter is confused about the white elephant and hopes he doesn't get loose and trample everyone to death by accident.

Fing has made a packed lunch, and has made everyone their favourite sandwiches. Trotter has cheese, Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face has jam and peanut butter, Tutz has tuna, Fat Boy Faggot has houmous and roasted vegetables in a panini, Lulu has bacon sausage and egg, Fing? Fing has pilchard with watercress. He has packed the sandwiches in a wicker basket, along with some bottles of pop and some crisps.

'What else will be there Fing?' asks Trotter from the doorway.

'There will small ponies with ribbons in their manes for children to ride round the field, says Fing, there will be ferrets in boxes and goats to stroke. There will be hoardes of old ladies standing at stalls will samples of home made chutney and scones. There will be piglets and lambs with big blue 'best in show' rosettes around their tiny, doomed, throats'

'Why are they doomed' asks Tutz from the kitchen top.

Luckily at that point there is a knock on the door and Shane arrives to whisk the excited pets away for their day out.

Fatty Lumpy

Truly Scrumptious Lulu and Trotter are watching a program about the clinically obese.

Lulu looks at Trotters scrawny terrier body wistfully and wonders how he manages to stay so thin. After all, he gets through half a pound of mature chedder every day.

Trotter points out that he burns off the excess fat by chasing his tail, chasing the cats, barking at doors, attacking people leaving the house, savaging the furniture and rucking up the throws and humping them, when he gets a chance.

'Lets face it Lu', he tells the chubbiest dog in the west, 'All you do is sit there and growl at people or sleep, you can't burn off the calories doing that'

Lulu looks at him through slitted eyes, one lone tooth jutting upwards from her jaw. She'll show them she thinks, has no one wondered where she's been sneaking off to on a Sunday afternoon, Church? Pah! She'll leave those crazy christians alone thank you very much.

Truly Lu has been going to gym class, taking turns on the treadmill, then the bike. Her tums and bums classes start next week. She'll show Trotter, with his stupid muscular body.

to be continued....

At the end of the day...It gets dark

Little Tiny Trotter lays fast asleep on the sofa wrapped up in his black cloak, dreaming vampire dreams.

His feet twitch as in his dreams he turns into a bat and flys into the middle distance in an erratic and demented manner.

He sleeps a sleep so deep that he doesn't hear all the cats sneaking up on him.

'HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAAA!' they cry as they tip a bucket of ice cold water on him.

Poor Trotter.

sunny afternoons

All the cats except Fing are lying sleeping on Martha's bed.

The sun is beating down and there is a kind of silence as the 3 furry bodies sleep, undisturbed by the people walking past chatting, or Dane playing basketball with Aaron. They don't wake up when Fly walks past talking to Roy, they don't stir when Ernie whizzes by in his electric wheelchair to feed the ducks.

There is a bee buzzing in the window and apart from a twitch of an ear it goes unnoticed. The slow, tick, tock, tick of the clock is almost non-existant in the background.

It is a sea of tranquility on that bed as the cats lie asleep in a bundle.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAA!' Shouts TROTTER as he dive bombs the bed scattering the sleeping cats like a bowling ball. He stands there panting with a stupid happy smile on his face, cloak slightly askew, thinking its a job well done, before seeing the looks on the cats faces and running like fuck, off down the stairs, to hide in the sitting room.

Underworld.

Fing is sat in the Garden under his favourite bush, contemplating the words of the Masnavi.

So why then is oil water's opposite? If you should try to mix them, you will see.'

Fing sits in the shade of the wegelia bush, half asleep in the dappled sunshine, pondering the complexities of the poem, 'That they keep apart so stubbornly. Since rose and thorn belong together too, Why then is constant fighting all they do'

His reverie is harshly disturbed by Trotter hurtling out of the bedroom window in his black cape, landing in the new pond, sending a tidal wave of murky water and weed into the shrubbery.

Fing sits in the shade with a piece of pond weed draped over his head and wonders what will be the best way to kill Trotter, who clambers out of the pond, shakes off his cloak and cries, 'HA HA HA Haaaaaa!' before running into the house to chase Fat Boy Faggot up the stairs.

The Cuckoos Nest

It is Film Friday and this week Fing has chosen 'Underworld' staring Kate Beckinsdale for the other pets to watch.

They stare in horrified fascination as the Vampires and Werewolves mash each other up in a variety of equally nasty ways.

Half way through the film, Fing realizes that Trotter is missing and goes in search of the poor tormented boy. All of a sudden and all unannounced TROTTER! hurtles down the stairs like a bat out of hell, wearing a long black cloack!

'My name is TROTTER!', he announces in a wierd kind of half russian, supposed to be transylvanian accent, 'I was born in the shadow of the Carpathian mountains, and I am also known as , Dracule, Ha Ha Ha Haaaa'.

Fing watches him as he races by and wonders what he ever did to deserve the other pets?

The Depressed Farmer

In a small house in Iffley, Winnie WIn Win Win lies on the floor and sulks.

She remebers what it was like to be a pub landlord and pull pints for thirsty customers on hot sunny days. Unfortunately she was forced to retire in her prime and now is competing with Truly Lu for the position of chubbiest dog in the west.

She pats her rotund little belly and sighs.

The Olympics, but not as we know it.

Trotter and Fat Boy Faggot practice their synchronized sleeping.

Aquatic Life

Giggsey Girl, the stupid slug face, and Tutz have spent the entire bank holiday weekend building an elaborate new pond in the back garden.

On Saturday Giggsey Girl swung a huge pick axe around like it was going out of fashion, while Tutz gave instructions from the flower bed wall. At the end of the day She had created a large, deep hole. The girls then went to the Goldfish bowl and bought some new bright and sparkly goldfish and a rather ugly little black moor for the new pond.

On Sunday the girls lined up breeze blocks and built a small wall around the edge of the pond. They also put sand and mud back in to line it and smooth it into interesting countours so the fish would have nice places to swim and explore in. They put in the liner, they cemented the wall then went inside for a glass of sweet sherry.

Today they are filing the pond, after the application of the water feature and light that will sit at the bottom of the pond to be switched on at night time to really annoy and confuse the fish. When everything is ready they will hold an official openeing of the back garden (although we couldn't have a local dignitary to cut the ribbon because there's a hose pipe ban and we'd be fined) with Varne doing the honours.

There is a tremendous air of excitement in the house, well, not from Trotter and Fing who are still fast asleep on the sofa from their May Morning.

Beltane

Trotter and Fing woke up at 5.30am in a state of excitement. They walked up into town in dawns first light and as they got nearer to the centre people began to join them. Luckily they got to Magdelen Bridge pretty early and were so allowed onto the bridge itself before the police cordoned everything off.

There is a muted chattering, all around the boys are drunk college students come back from May Balls, there are Morris Dancers holding huge standards, the Bulldogs have come out from the colleges and families with children are all around them.

At 6.30 the Magdelen Boys Choir sings and it is so beautiful that it makes all the hairs on Fings body rise until he looks like a giant puffball fish. Trotter turns to say something to him and takes a leap to the left in shock. The Music is eerily beautiful and completely incomprihensible because its all in Latin, Trotter thnks there might be a message for him in the somewhere but he cant quite grasp it.

They sing and some old boy says prayers and Trotter nudges Fing and looks at his watch. Fing nods and they force their way back through the crowds, back up the high street, they take a right down Queens Lane till they hit the Bridge of Sighs at which point they take a sharp right down a tiny alley way to the Turf Tavern.

They have a pint of Old Rosie and laugh at a very large South African who is more drunk that alive. They feel a bit tipsy on the Rosie and head back up the alley way to walk home, but no!

Under the Bridge of Sighs a large group has gathered and in the middle of everything is a Morris Dancer Stand off!



They leap and prance, some hitting sticks together, some being hit around the legs and bottoms by a man with a pigs bladder on a stick, Which Fing finds quite unsettling. Trotter is entranced by the waving of hankies and the jingle of the bells and wonders if one day, he could be a Morriser!They watch for a while then decide to cut through the crowds and weave their merry way home for a well earned nap on the sofa.