Lazing on sunny afternoons

It's been a few weeks since I last put paw to keyboard - the heatwave meant I was too exhausted to do anything much beyond eating and sleeping in the flowerbeds. Occasionally, I attempted to rid myself of some of the fluff I've been shedding this summer. It was a losing battle, so I let She Who Controls the Can-Opener use a brush on me. I quite enjoy it secretly, even though I always make a fuss - squirming and wriggling and trying to stroll out of reach. I'd never let Her know that, though.

The other thing that's kept me busy is patrolling my territory - I have to keep rubbing my scent on everything so that the House-Bitch of Doom doesn't delude herself that she's regaining the upper hand. It's a daily round of the kitchen, various reception rooms, doorposts and chair legs.

Luckily, the House-Bitch of Doom has been dissuaded from hanging out in the office, where She Who Controls the Can-Opener works. This means I can sleep on Her desk without interruption from my would-be usurper. Mind you, She has annoying habit of filling my kipping space with various large tomes when She pretends to be earning Her keep. How am I supposed to rest peacefully when there are thesauri and dictionaries blocking my bed? I usually try and kick them on the floor when She does this, although I must admit I am putting myself at risk of eviction.

Some ignoramuses out there are under the misguided impression that She named me after a certain admiral. I can state that this is categorically untrue. Apparently, She's a fan on some daft radio show called The Archers and my name comes from a certain N. Gabriel. I suppose it's better than the one the breeder dumped on me at birth - no one will ever convince me that Barley du Vinclair is anything but poncey. But what no one knows is that my mum called me Brian...