...Er, um, Hello!

My name is Augustus. I have parents. Sometimes life can be difficult. I possess the great skill of being able to charm the socks off of anyone who chances to spot me, a rare occurrence indeed. [The spotting, that is; not the charming!]
However, for you, Dear Reader, I am prepared to divulge my deepest thoughts and perspective of the world, mostly because if I don't tell somebody what is going on around here, I am going to pop!
But be warned, proceed with caution: Living with Mummy and Dad can be rather harrowing at times...

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Mummy Found My Stash!

Dad bought Mummy a new chair for the bedroom, confound him! A very nice chair, all covered in striped twill just right for plucking. I won’t go into the lecture we cats got about “leaving Mummy’s chair alone” (i.e. no scratching, jumping, sliding down or even sitting on - pretty extreme, I think!); let us just say that it was not very pleasant. The point here, albeit a fuzzy point, is that the new chair demanded its own personal space [something I have been vying for myself to no avail]. And gaining this new space required a certain amount of shuffling furniture and…Rugs; rugs that happen to be very convenient for stowing kitty contraband. As in the case of the massive pile of Q-tips Mummy discovered on turning back a particular rug that had been in the same spot since the beginning of time - longer than Dad is old, even! I had no reason to believe that blighted rug would not be there until the end of time so had been carefully tucking my well-fuzzed out and artfully dusted cotton swabs right in the center, just in case. I mean to say, you never know when you might have the sudden urge to tote one around the place, and Mummy does not always remember to keep the Q-tip jar full. So I stashed and stored to my little heart’s content, happy as a squirrel knowing his walnuts will be there come winter though no one else knows about them, only to find Mummy dumping all my cherished things into the trash in one reckless moment. I was astonished! I begged and pleaded but it was no good. Those delightful fuzzballs-on-a-stick were gone. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Mummy lectured me on the perils of dirty Q-Tips lying about the place. I wish I had the good sense at the time to mention how long they had been under there. As in, obviously she hadn’t actually cleaned under that rug in a rat’s age or she would have noticed my goodies sooner. Which would naturally lead to concern over the hazards of dust laden rugs….On reflection, it is probably for the best that I did not mention it; otherwise, I might not be here to relay this story. But mark my words: I WILL find another place for Q-Tips, even better than the last. And I WILL guard them more closely, in case she gets any funny ideas about rearranging things again. I just have to find something Mummy doesn’t clean very often…her clothes closet, perhaps??

1 comment:

  1. Oh no! Not the Qtip stash! He, he...sounds like the clothes closet may be the perfect hideout for you, bud!