News reaches me from distant lands that I am not the only badly behaved cat. Mr Augustus, shortened form 'Gus' but who I call 'Gusset' (snigger) has recently moved abode. He was the immensely trying feline who came to stay as a kitten and pooped in my litter tray and then proceeded to demolish my gourmet food. You only need to watch Simon's Cat's "Double Trouble" to see what went down. I am used to being the one in charge and did not take kindly to this outrageous behaviour and so I tried staring him down under the kitchen table and then tried to herd him behind the radiator but the blighter kept escaping. Anyway I digress, he's apparently moved house and took a look at his new block and was not impressed as he was leaving behind some adoring senior citizens from his old neighbourhood who would regularly put tasty tit-bits down for him and lavish attention upon him even if they did insist on calling him 'Gilbert'. He should be grateful for this moniker though as it does at least vaguely resemble his actual name, unlike 'Tinkerbell' as I was greeted recently by a retired gent who is actually called Gilbert over the road. Tinkerbell imagine?! I'm a boy cat mister. Anyway, after a week of being kept inside he seized his first opportunity of outside-time and then refused to come home whilst a Bengal, Abysinnian or some other such fancy cat has apparently been trying to do a house-swop and enter my Aunt Poll's house by shouting at their back door to come in. Thankfully he has reappeared since. I made a similar move on the Tall One yesterday and refused to come out of the Paradiesgarten when asked to and so received abysmal neglect when I was left to fend for myself for three hours when she went into Oxford for a new clothes airer. I made sure I rushed at her car whilst she was trying to park, forcing her to do an emergency stop and then proceeded to shout at her for a good hour until I felt suitably reassured.
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