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Orkney's Yappings

EPIC FAIL

We're STILL having trouble converting the Dog Guy. Mummy doesn't understand how he can be so unmoved by our cuteness. I don't understand it either. Well, I can understand it with Arrow, because she really only sucks up to Mummy and no-one else, but what about me? I'm a bottomless pit of cuteness. He says it's because we don't get on his lap and behave "like a cat should". Whenever he approaches us he gets so worried about spooking us that he sort of creeps up to us slowly like he's trying to stalk us. Of course we're so spooked by this that we promptly take off!
Then one day he suggested to Mummy that if she could rent a house with a separate office, we could live in there and she could be with us when she goes into the office. That way the rest of the house would be free of litterboxes, fur, barf, stray whiskers, clawed furniture and dead mice. Mummy raised one eyebrow and looked at him. For a long time. Without speaking. At this point the Dog Guy realised the meaning of the words EPIC FAIL.

A Dog Tale

Mummy slept in this morning. Nothing new there, of course, but she awoke to Zephyr frantically slapping her around the chops to wake her up. The rest of us were outside, being summer and all. When Mummy opened the door to let us in for breakfast, she was gobsmacked to see the stupid border collie from up the road sitting on our front porch, apparently attempting to engage us in conversation. Well, any cat knows that dogs talk drivel, and since we're not dog-loving cats the expression on our faces was one of sheer desperation. There are only so many stories of "Bones I have Buried" a cat can take, especially on an empty stomach. Bunty and I were fairly cross-eyed with boredom, and Arrow had slunk off around the corner to get away from this crashing bore. We were so relieved when the door opened and we could dash inside for breakfast.

Training the Dog Guy

The Dog Guy's training continues slowly. He understands now that our demands to be let out or in are to be obeyed immediately. He is, however, still having difficulty grasping the concept that 50% of the bed is MINE and any attempt to prove otherwise is doomed to failure. He thinks that picking me up and depositing me on the floor will result in an uninterrupted night's sleep with plenty of room for him to stretch out, and seems puzzled when he wakes up to find I have resumed residence on my half of the bed, Mummy is occupying most of the other half and he is teetering on the edge.
I guess that hanging out with dogs doesn't really sharpen the intellect though, so I should cut him some slack. He tells Mummy about the wondrous things his dog does. Are you ready for this? Apparently his dog can climb onto a chair and perch there. Can you believe that? Something that any three month old kitten can accomplish with ease is considered brilliant when a dog does it. The dog also chews up the neighbours' dogs' bedding, which the Dog Guy then has to replace out of his own pocket. Despite this, he regards this patently imbecilic canine as the Stephen Hawking of the dog world. I think if it did an IQ test, it would be battling to score higher than a wombat. It might come out ahead of a garden slug though.