Tuesday, 16 August 2016

In the Back Yard


Mr Bumpy: So, Percy, now you've got back yard privileges, do you want to me to show you how to get around the "cat proofing" and escape the yard?


Sir Percival: Oh no Bumps, old fellow.  That would only make the servants worry. We can't have that. Noblesse Oblige and all that.


Miss Fantasia: See Bumpy, you're the only bad animal in this family.


Sir Percival: Fanta dear! Young ladies need to show a little more decorum! (Sigh.) How did I end up with a family like this?




Sunday, 14 August 2016

Shameless Self-Promotion



Settle in for story time.

This is me reading "Spring Cleaning" one of the short stories in my new book Patchwork.

Friday, 5 August 2016

Percy in the Great Outdoors


I've been granted backyard privileges,

on a trial basis.

This is great.

I can see the whole yard.

I think I'll go back to the couch now.

Thursday, 4 August 2016

Cut It Out



Mum: Percy! I'm trying to cut out a dress pattern here.

Percy: Maybe you should do that somewhere else.  Don't trim the tail.

Wednesday, 13 July 2016

Patchwork Available Now

Mum's new book, an anthology of short stories and poetry is available now, direct from the publisher here: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/IrisCarden.  Over the next couple of weeks it will appear in all your favourite on-line bookshops as well. (The paperback has one bonus story you won't find in the eBook version.)



Friday, 10 June 2016

Sir Percival and the Holy Grail

To Whom It May Concern,
"I believe I have found the Holy Grail." - Percy.

It has come to my attention that the original, human, Sir Percival was a disgrace to the name, and it is up to me to rectify his disastrous failing.

As I understand it, Sir Percival went in search of the Holy Grail.

He was actually in the castle, with the Fisher King, with the Grail processed in front of him.

Sir Percival failed to ask, "Is that thing being processed past us between each course of the meal the Holy Grail?"

If he'd asked, the Fisher King would have been healed of his injury, and Percival would have claimed the Grail.

But he failed to ask the question, the Fisher King died, the castle crumbled and the grail was lost forever.

"I'm inspecting it closely, to be sure." - Percy.
 Now, I don't know if this house is what counts as a castle, but one of the humans, Mum is sick.  And I found a cup that I think may possibly be a Grail of some sort.

Mr Bumpy tells me that when Mum worked as a minister, she sometimes took a cup like this one to church.  So this could indeed be Holy.

I have inspected this particular object very closely, and have found nothing to disprove the idea that this might be the Holy Grail.

Having the Grail within reach of my paws, gives me the opportunity to rescue my family name from disrepute and dishonour.

Now, I have to ask the right question.  If this truly is the Holy Grail, and if I get the question right, Mum will be healed and I will have the Holy Grail, and all of the honour that comes of finding it.  (Sadly, there are no Knights of the Round Table left to give me the due honour that would come with this find.)  I wonder how many chances I have to find the right question?

Percy! What are you doing with that? - Mum.
"Is this what a Grail's supposed to look like?" - Percy.


Oh, no, Mum, I'm the one supposed to be asking questions.

Did you knock that off the table?

Mum, let me ask the questions!  You could get better if I get the question right.

Wait, Mum! Don't take it away!

Mum, Mum, Mum! Is this the Holy Grail?

What are you yowling about? - Mum.

Wrong question, apparently.  Mum, have any knights or anyone else on a quest been to visit you?

Percy, settle down.  It's not dinner time. - Mum.

"It's certainly a very nice cup.  I hope it's the Grail." - Percy.
Mum, don't put that in the cabinet!  I've still got to get the question right.

What has got into you today? - Mum. 

What else could the question be?

Mum, don't close the cabinet.  Bring that back!  Don't you want to get better?

Now, there's trouble.

I wonder how long I have to come up with the right question before disaster strikes.

This really is a serious situation. If you are in any way able to help, please do so immediately.

Yours Sincerely
Sir Percival Yowling-Feline

Wednesday, 25 May 2016

All Your Cat Questions Answered

It's come to my attention that there are humans
 reading my blog. - Mr Bumpy.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

It's come to my attention that there are humans reading my blog, and that they have some questions about feline behaviour.

Of course, it's really no surprise that the inferior species would wonder about us.

So, for the sake of the human readers, here are the answers to all the questions asked about cats.

Q. Why do I throw everything off the dressing table?

A. Because I'm a cat.

Q. Why do I bring dead things inside?

A. Because I'm a cat.

Q. Why do you cuddle up to the dog when it's cold and then attack me at other times? - Fanta.

A. Because I'm a cat.  And I'm answering the questions humans might ask, not your questions.

Q. Would I really eat you if you died?

A. Yes, I would.  In fact, I'll practice by having a little bite or two now. Because I'm a cat.

Q. Why do I demand to be fed when I already have a bowl three-quarters full of food?

A. Because I'm a cat.

Q. Why do I bolt down too much food too fast when I know I'll just puke it up when I do that?

A. Because I'm a cat.

Q. Why did you pee in all the litter trays as soon as they were changed, again? - Percy.

A.  Because I'm a cat, and I'm not supposed to be answering your questions, furball.

Q. Why do I always want to be on the other side of any door?

A. Because I'm a cat.

Q. Why do I wake you up in the middle of the night, and demand that you stroke me?

A. Because I'm a cat.

Q. Why do I smooch you and smooch you, and then suddenly stick my claws in and bite?

A. Because I'm a cat.  Cats are total jerks.

Wait, I'm not a total jerk! - Percy.

What about clawing the furniture when there's perfectly serviceable scratching posts provided? Not even I do that.

Oh, that. - Percy.

As I was saying. Cats are total jerks.  Except the furball, he's just a partial jerk. He's also not much of a cat.

Until next time we meet in the Blogosphere,
I remain,


Mr Bumpy,
Bloggercat,
Supreme Feline Overlord,
And Proudly a Total Jerk.