...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...

Friday, March 1, 2013


Caught on, er, in tape!

We kits did a bad thing.

Well, when I say “we” I actually mean Mosby and Morgan. Of course the others joined in the fray(ing), and I was swept along in the excitement of it all. Just sayin’….

It is nothing, really – perhaps I should not mention it - but there is [*scratch, scratch, scratch*] was this collection of tapes in a bag. And not just any tapes – OLD tapes, recordings dear ol’ Dad had borrowed from his dear ol’ dad of dear ol’ Dad’s dear ol’ dad’s family from yesteryear.

All clear so far?


I mean to say, this shiny, slinky thing was peeking out of the bag, and Mosby began pulling at it, then it grew. And grew. Morgan grabbed a bit and tugged some more, then out shot a whole reel! It rolled across the floor and (did I mention we were upstairs in Dad’s study?) bounced down the stairs, kits of all shapes and sizes traveling in its wake. Someone (I can’t clearly recall – probably doesn’t matter) nabbed the end between his handsome teeth and darted round the corner, across the dining room, between, then around, the table legs, over one chair and into the window seat.

At this juncture the tape snapped, leaving another free end. Naturally a kit grabbed the baton, as it were, and made off with it. This feline had the clever ingenuity (and agility, further evidence it was not I) to jump onto and across the kitchen island, over to the sink and somehow twist the crinkly film about the faucet, where it seemed pleased to remain.
Eventually that reel ran out of steam so another bright idea began flowering – why not go for another?

So we, er, they did.

In short, by the time Mummy walked in the door, the house was redone in Early Tape Recording which I thought added a certain whatsit.

Mummy, on the other paw, was not pleased. As we cringed waiting for our punishment, a few of us with the telltale evidence dangling from our lips, Mummy pulled a raw one on us. Instead of berating us for our fell deed, she simply said Dad would be most disappointed in us. That was shameful enough but there was more to come: viz. the revelation that Grandma reads my diary!

So now I, er, we are in deep trouble ‘cause Grandma thought very highly of those tapes, says Mummy. And she is coming over for dinner tomorrow night!

Did I mention the bathtub escape route has been cut off?


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