Tag Archives: Cats

Dear blog

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Dear blog,

I have neglected you. I am sorry. Life got in the way but I promise you that not a day went by that I didn’t think about you.

Things have been a little crazy. I decided, upon becoming a slightly manic confused mess to stop taking my medication. At first I felt fantastic. I took up exercise, started running, obsessed about it and just when I started to think that perhaps I didn’t have anything wrong with me after all I hit a very grim low and I haven’t done a great deal of anything since (you should see the laundry pile… OK piles).  I lost faith in my book and stopped writing. I skipped college for two weeks, I simply couldn’t face people. I even stopped taking cat pictures.

Dearest blog I am sure you will be displeased by my excuses but please, please let me assure you that I am piecing myself back together.

I’m writing again..or trying atleast…

Major charity shop treasure.

and what is life without cat pictures?

Prince, looking not so ‘petit’

So all in all dearest blog I am sorry, forgive me?

Aimes
x

Margot Frankenkatzen

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Another cat post. I’ll be honest I’m both too lazy to write a real post and also totally in love with my new phone and how I can take photos of Lord Dorian and co. like some insane cat paparazzi (catarazzi?) and IMMEDIATELY inflict it on other people.

Besides if I’ve learnt anything from my adventures in blogging it’s that people LOVE cats. And bacon. But I’m out of that.

Advantages to being crazy #2

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Advantages: to impulse buying ridiculous furniture from charity shops that you just NEED but have no use for and nowhere to store it.  

Someone make this into a lolcat. Right now.

Once you’ve taken it home you can make your cat sit on it and take hilarious pictures of them.

Well I think they’re hilarious anyway…

Prudence Von Pancaek

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“The only good cat is a dead cat”

This is my dear fathers motto. I’ve no idea what a cat ever did to make him feel this way but he certainly is adamant about it. I must confess I went along with it too (to the extent that I did not care for cats, not that I wanted to see them dead or anything) until the arrival of Dorian Grey.

He was homeless, hopelessly matted and starving to death. I was in love.  6 months on he is unmatted (dematted? less matted?) and a fat healthy cat. Unfortunately I am now desperate for more cats. I imagine this is the way that other women feel about producing copious amounts of children. I long to hear the pitter patter of really tiny feet roaming my house and so, much to Mr Steeles disapproval, I am looking out for moar cats. Two to be precise. A ginger one for the Demonspawn (I’m so sorry in advance Ginger, just remember what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and I totally promise to get some hardcore pet insurance for your inevitable broken legs and dislocated whiskers) and another one; smoky in colour, peculiar in appearance, fat and I shall call her Prudence.

Well folks, today I found her. 

Prudence was once a very attractive young lady but her extremely high standards for suitors have caused her to reach a certain age bereft of companionship. The years have not been kind to her and she is no longer the belle she once was. She needs love, although she may not be prepared to admit that.

I’d like to think in her youth she was a debutante. She can live in my house residing on a velvet cushion, scowling at Mr Grey for being brutish and  uncouth (for the record he is neither but that’s just Prudence for you). I believe they will get along famously.

All that currently stands between me and Prudence, who is rightfully mine and absolutely gorgeous thank you very much, is 60 miles and £175. Inorite? Total bargain! Mr Steele has been, as usual, chronically unhelpful and anyone would think he didn’t want this gorgeous lady residing in our house. Maybe he thinks I’ll get jealous, feel threatened and start to urinate on everything. I can almost guarantee that won’t happen.

If anyone wants to donate to the ‘Help Aimes Get this Fugly Cat’ fund I’d be more than happy to take your money.  Honestly, more than happy. Prudence Von Pancake (European aristocracy of course) you will be mine. Oh yes, you will be mine.