Cold

Brrrr... winter is drawing in. It's becoming increasingly difficult to find somewhere warm to snooze in the house. I've been forced to grow extra fur to compensate and preserve my core body heat. She Who Controls the Can Opener is now complaining about the amount of fluff I am shedding. Like I can do anything about that. What does She expect? It's alright for Her - if She feels nippy, She can put a cardigan on. I only have one layer.

Sitting on Her desk means being subject to the draught that creeps in under the sash window right next to my favourite sleeping spot. Her bloke understands though, he was kind enough to go out and buy an extra heater for Her office so I don't freeze my... well I was going to say bollocks, but She had them lopped off some years back. Didn't even consult me! Just schlepped me off to the vet and the next thing I know I'm minus two vital bits of my anatomy. How mean is that?

So what's new round here? Well, the snake has gone. Good. It was dead boring. The House Bitch of Doom is still here, more's the pity. Mostly we have an armed truce, but once in a while it's paws at dawn...

Other than that life is an endless round of finding warm places to nap, devising tactics to ensure I always get fed first and letting Her tickle my tummy. I suppose I'm quite fond of Her really - I've started giving Her a daily wash when we're at Her desk. I'm not implying She needs a shower. But a little extra cleanliness doesn't go amiss. Does it?