It's quiet around here this weekend, just me and Sophie (the cat). And she doesn't say much. Well she says plenty when she feels it's time to be fed but apart from that she's pretty quiet. She lies around a lot, honours me with her presence on the couch from time to time and lets me know, in no uncertain terms, that she is in charge and I am her people. I respond to this, as most cat owners do, by pathetically grasping for any attention she might give me and rushing to feed her at the first impatient mew. I think I behave a lot like Queen Victoria's servants did. And she certainly acts a lot like Queen Victoria.
She was sleeping on the couch when I went out today and I was gone for 3 hours. She was still in exactly the same spot when I came back. You'd think she'd be fat, but she's not. All she does is eat and sleep and go outside maybe twice a day and she never puts on weight. How great would that be? I wish I was a cat. Although I'm sure I'd miss my opposable thumbs.
You can tell it's quiet can't you. I'm blogging about the cat.
I could blog about other things. Like Paris Hilton. What a fuss she's making about being sent back to jail. Silly cow.
Ok, that's that topic covered.
Enough already, it's bedtime.
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