The perils of cat-sitting

Picture the scene. 5am, I am fast asleep on the sofa when a cat jumps on my face.

Shaggy: Purr purr purr I love you Erykah you're amazing I love you by the way I'm hungry did I mention I love you?
Me: Fuck off I'm asleep.
Shaggy: But Simon and the Dr always feed me at 5am if I'm hungry purr purr you wouldn't want to upset them would you purr.
Me: No they don't.
Shaggy: Do.
Me: Don't.
Shaggy: Do. Will putting my arse in your face make any difference purr.
Me: I was told to ignore you at stupid o clock in the morning.
Shaggy: FINE! I shall go and eat what is left. Though it is probably POISON. Don't say I didn't warn you if it makes me ILL!

*om nom nom*

*huuuuurk*

Shaggy: I told you so.

--

I have temporarily relocated south of the river to look after this creature while his usual slaves are in Glasgow:



I could definitely get used to having a house of one's own; I wonder if I could claim squatters rights?