52% intelligent. 9% modest. More monkey than bear.
Thursday 3 July 2008
the most beautiful girl in the room (the whole wide room)
Our cat seems to pick up adoring fans wherever she goes. She rather likes sitting just outside the house, either on the wall round the back or on the pavement in front of our bedroom window. Many is the Sunday morning that I have woken up to the sounds of passing strangers cooing over our cat as she rolls around on her back in front of them, showing then her tummy like the love-slut she is. Just in case anyone looks like they may walk past without giving her any love, she'll let out cute little yowling noises to catch their attention until they do. Barely anyone ignores her.
I got home yesterday evening to discover a note from our cleaners*.
"Sorry to be cheeky, but do you think you could leave a note next clean with your cat's name on it please? She is so gorgeous and I don't like just calling her cat :-)"
Honestly. Our cat doesn't even like hoovers, and she still finds time to charm the cleaners as they go about their business. I'll leave a note next time they come, but I'll feel a little bit dirty doing it; sort of like the cat's pimp. It's all so sordid. The day is fast approaching where I am going to give up my job to dedicate myself to looking after my supermodel cat whilst my wife travels around the world earning millions in the boardrooms of the world like some kind of attractive and unbearded intercontinental Alan Sugar.
I know my place.
Actually, that doesn't sound so bad.
* yes, I'm aware that this makes me sound painfully middle-class, but they only visit once a fortnight and they do an unbelievably thorough job. Plus it means that I don't have to clean the toilet, so......