I, Kooky Wookiee Harding, have taken over this blog to complain bitterly about this place and the resident cat slave. I used to have a young, pretty slave, who would play with me on the floor for hours on end (even if she was stupid enough to try and stuff me into a dress for a photograph - she bears the scar still). This one is very old and fat, can't sit on the floor, and can't move around fast, obviously. I have observed her constantly eating, when she remains in the house, like Jabba the Hutt, watching TV, without a single thought to my welfare.
As soon as I arrived in this dump I decided to hide under the sofa in her studio. She was stupid enough to leave my tray in the studio, so I rewarded her with a large pile of poo on the kitchen floor on the first day. That seemed to teach her to put my tray there, where it was required. She still hasn't found a suitable cat food, though she seems to have realised after a week or two that I am not keen on fish.
The place is an absolute tip - despite having a cleaner, the level of hygiene is atrocious - NOT what I am accustomed to.
She gave a wild party last Saturday - slaves rushing around the flat, supposedly having a 'dinner party' - more like a slave rave until 4.30am when they disturbed the neighbours as well as me when they went home.
She lost my drugs, my catnip drops, on which I am heavily dependant, so I have been suffering withdrawal symptoms. Apparently she managed to find them today.
I spend many hours sitting in her window, hoping my previous owners will realise the folly of their ways and come and collect me, meanwhile I will have to teach this particularly stupid old female slave how to behave, if she wants me to hang around her disgusting dwelling.
Rant over.
No comments:
Post a Comment