Not with a bang but with a wimp

It's been a touch noisy lately round here. From about mid-October onwards, as dusk drew in and I looked forward to my evening meal, one could hear fireworks being let off all around my neighbourhood. She Who Controls The Can Opener was fretting about the effect on my health and threatening to lock me in until after 5 November. You would think she'd have realised by now that such noises do not bother me in the slightest. But then, I've always been a laidback, cool type. It's all part of my superior breeding.

As matters reached a crescendo on Guy Fawkes night, I merely raised an eyebrow then settled back down for another doze. The House Bitch of Doom, on the other hand, was tearing around the mansion like a demented lunatic, getting under everyone's feet and annoying me immensely as her pointless restlessness was disturbing my slumbers. She has no manners and no courage. In fact, she has no anything of merit - she is a chav and a coward. I am being forced to share my living quarters with a wimp.

Rumour has it the House Bitch has reached the last of her 9 lives. If so, I shall be doing my best to ensure that She Who Controls The Can Opener opens her heart and front door to an attractive, aristocratic young lady companion for my good self. We could do with a touch more class around here...