A not so pampered pussycat


I was recently on the Guardian website – excellent reporting, especially from Jess Cartner-Morley and Charlie Brooker – where my human parent had filled out a questionnaire on pet ownership.

Stealthily approaching to have a closer look during the completion phase, I discovered from the answers that she has one pet, a cat (male, tabby, between the ages of 6 and 12 months), i.e. me. So far, so boring. Even I could tell you those details. It’s a pity there were no options for adjectives: ‘magnificent’ tabby, for example, or ‘refined’ male. On reflection, perhaps it might be for the best there was no box for additional information as she might have gone into detail about my gender issues and how I used to be a girl named Delilah.

I then learnt that I cost less than 10 pounds and that she spends between 10 and 24 pounds a month on me. Is that all? Oh to be in the box marked 500 pounds or more…. The positive response to the question ‘does your pet get a birthday present?’ excites me greatly as it is in fact my first birthday this month. I’m expecting a party and everything. I’ll have to start drawing up the guest list. One of the final questions was ‘where does your pet sleep?’ Obviously my human parent ticked options b and c: in owner’s bed and on owner’s bed. Thank god I’m not option ‘kitchen/utility room’ or god forbid, option ‘other’. Can you imagine?





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