Princess · Paw's · Pawprints

Oh the horror! One is so traumatised at the goings on here with New Years shannanagins and tomfoolery. It behooves me to speak out, but I am shamed beyond belief. The night of the NYE (from which I am only just nearly recovered) started with beer for some of the humans for breakfast and something called "shots" of Sambucca through the morning. I knew it would be wise to hide in the garage, but alas, by nightfall the humans decided to play some kind of card game called "kings". It's cetainly not as civilised at it sounds and it appeared to involve quite a substantial amount of alcoholic beverages.

What horrified me the most is that one of the cards was designated "hold the cat" in which I was held until the next person drew the card and then passed unceremoniously aroud the table no matter how much I struggled to free myself. To add insult to injury, if the "limbo" card was drawn by the person holding me, I was forced to endure drunken limbo. If the "change clothes" card was drawn, I was not to be put down for this manouever.

And how they laughed! I am mortified.

Abandoned for Christmas while my person goes of on some road trip to Hervey Bay! Indeed! I am so insulted. At least the girl-human returned today and brought a friend home with the good taste to recognise my incredible beauty and breeding.

I am mollified, but only a little.

Although it's certainly difficult to be jolly when one is dressed in a red spangly puff dress or ones fake hawaiian flowers slip from one's neck, over one's shoulders, around one's middle and off one's tail.

To make matters worse, my serenity has been broken by an amount of home decorating at the back. Blinds have been fixed (to prevent the adoring but intrusive gazes of my many admirers, one assumes), tables and chairs refreshed with oils and a hammock set up. This bodes of my human spending more time at home in the future which cannot be a good thing.

I recieved another postcard in the mailbox today. Amidst the "meow"s it informed moi that my mistress was elephant-riding and would be home soon. Of course, such trifling information is of scant interest to oneself, but the thought occurs, that if she is off elephant-riding and will be home soon, then who is this person living in the house right now?

I am gravely alarmed that some kind of doppelganger has taken up residence with a view to.. well, it makes one quite faint to even contemplate what exactly, but I'm certain it shan't be pleasant!

Send help. Send help immediantly!

My mistress returned yesterday. After frantically running to the door to check it really was her, I waited until she came to the door and called me before disdainfully walking off with my tail in the air before sitting sourly under the table. It served her right to think I didn't care for her return. She should have never have abandoned me in the first place.

Again, I carefully remained aloof at the gift giving- some extraordinary carved food bowls and horror of horrors, some kitty dress-up clothes were thrust upon me. It's hard, nigh impossible to retain any kind of dignity whilst wearing a frilly, shirred, pink tube dress or red, sequinned puff dress. I could have died of embarassment.

One is eternally grateful that one wasn't photographed.

It's 10.30pm and no sign of my girl who was due in Brisbane mid-afternoon.

Perhaps I misread the calender or perhaps she has been detained at the airport in an amusing drug-trafficking scandal.

More postcards have arrived, bringing the total to about 10. I pretend I really am rather bored by the whole thing but I am always first to the door. It breaks up one's day, you understand.

The girl human reads them out loud to me which I pretend not to understand, although her enunciation of the word "meow" certainly has none of the nuances of the written word and I fear a great deal has been lost in translation.

I find it very hard to believe either that men are cute, she would consider not coming home from Amsterdam or it is bloody cold in London waiting for a bomb (or some such nonsense). Her last message informed me of her arrival home in 2 weeks. By the calender on the refrigerator, she is due home in 2 days.

Did I mention I recieved a postcard from Spain?

It was very like the last, full of "meow" and emergency instructions like "call ma" and "stay inside". Indeed! If one could have dialled out with these paws, one would have telephoned for some sushi well before now.

It's only natural that one should have gentleman callers.

One spent time this morning being unattainable and firmly on the other side of 2 screen doors and a window whilst my striped gentleman caller failed to woo me satisfactorily. I was quite loud in my words whilst he sang to me, but he still failed to grasp the hint that one is above That Kind Of Thing.

Had a most satisfying day yesterday. While the boy-human was outside taking rubbish to the bin, I deftly closed the door behind him. Happily, I was able to sit daintily on the windowsill and watch for hours while, without either house key, car key or wallet, he was forced to dial for assistance. Again, happily, it was some time coming and I amused myself by miaoing at him.

He thinks a sudden gust of wind is responsible for leaving him stranded out of doors. Feline fanciers, you know different!

Now excuse me whilst I attend to my grooming. One naturally looks this gorgeous, of course, but there's no excuse for letting one's natural beauty cause slovenly grooming practices.

Just when I was about to give up hope, mail arrived for me. It wasn't, as I had expected, a ransom demand but a postcard from Dubai. It read-

"Meow!
Meow meow meow
meow meow meow
meow be good meow
meow meow meow
meow meow meow
Love
Your Master!!:)"

I can barely believe it myself. Master!

I need new minions. These ones I live with are far below standard. Even my plaintive miaowing appears to be falling on deaf ears these days. One wonders exactly how to go about it since "Serf Monthly" doesn't appear to be in publication. Perhaps there's a market somewhere?

And if that isn't bad enough, the girl-human hasn't returned from her voyage yet, and the other girl-human went away for a week. A week! It's completely inexcusable. I have taken up reading to appear more nonchelant, but even this ruse appears to gain me little attention.

I think it's time to plan another excursion out of doors.

A busy evening watching Minty Mouse running in her wheel tonight. I love that little mouse, and I'm sure I'd love her ever so much more if I could lever the lid of the mousetank off.

While everyone was busy I played in the breeze of the front door, catching bits of fluff with my paws and rolling along my hollow white ball. In an embarassing faux pas I skated into the sideboard and hit my delicate head, however I am certain that I was unobserved and I managed to walk away with dignity.

Still no sign of my human. I am starting to think that she intends to go through with this holiday and not hastily return. Perhaps she has been kidnapped and is unable to communicate. I am deeply concerned for her welfare.

Around mid-morning the girl-human dragged herself through the door so I miaowed incessantly to make her feel guilty for her abandonment.

Really, three days alone with the boy-human is inexcusable. Of course he feeds me but female company is not what he's providing. How can I associate on anything other than a superficial level with a person who closes their bedroom door when they sleep to prevent my entry?

Well, my snoozing has been interrupted long enough and Oprah is on the big screen with a special on aging and beauty. Obviously, not anything that concerns moi, but it may amuse the humans and one should supervise them.

Three days now and no sign of that wayward girl returning. One would have thought there was only so much Dubai one could handle. Or Greece or whatever. One really wasn't that interested when she showed me her itenary because one assumed her concern for me would outweigh any cruise ship delights.

My days have been filled with appearing to snooze carelessly on the couch and when my people come home, miowing plaintively at my food bowl. At least my servants are keeping me fed and watered although I notice a distinct lack of caviar-on-toast for breakfast.

Last night that odious Pbear cornered me again for what he called "Some love" although I assure you having my person bent into amusing shapes, being trapped in his bear-like embrace and limited conversation, "Kitty kitty kitty loves me, don't you kitty kitty kitty?" is more than a feline can manage.

If anyone reads this, send help. Or at the very least, some decent caviar.

I can't believe that selfish woman is going on holiday and carelessly abandoning me to the whims of theglaive and arenas72. Have I not permitted her to pamper me on a daily basis? Where have I gone wrong?

How can she seriously think they will maintain the lap of luxury I live in and maintain the constant pampering I expect as an award winning feline?

Why only last night, arenas72 held the door open just a fraction of a second, but it was enough for me to shoot my slender, girlish fur thru and out into the night for a spot of night time excitement. It's not my fault that the cat I happened to fight with is the body corporate cat. Common, I tell you. No breeding at all. Not like moi.

So I've been heartlessly abandoned while she galavants around the globe for 40 days. It's not what I'd expect from the devoted owner of a Queen.

There's nothing for it. I shall snooze on the couch while I give this treachery some thought. Ciao!