This evening my adorable Foreign White baby Albert decided to turn to a chocolate smoke Oriental van, after playing with and breaking two of my brown powder shadows.
“Oh, fab, they can fly from the shelf with just a tiny little push of a helpful paw, like da bomb making a BANG when they land!
And see how they glitter after falling into pieces in the bathtub, let me smear that a bit and dance on the shiny pearly miniature stardust…
Oh, my paws, look how lovely and chocolatey they are and my nose, am I not a star?
Oh dear, Mom is coming, I will run like the wind and keep on dancing all over the house, landing in one of the off-white sofas, rolling in it back and forth to press all the cacao coloured dust deeper into my once upon a time snow-white fur”.
Leroy, Electra, Jossan and Claire
This is one of my imaginary conversations with our Siamese. Our only non-Siamese cat Maven is running around on the bottom floor.
SIAMESE: “We think we heard a ghost! 😨 Or Bigfoot! Or, was it – Maven!?”
J: “Occam’s razor, kitties. Occam’s razor… Think!”
***the sound of the Siamese thinking***
J: “So, who were you most likely to hear?”
SIAMESE: “Hmmm – Occam?”
J: “No! You should USE Occam’s razor – the simpler explanation is usually the most likely one. So – who did you hear?”
SIAMESE: “Aha! Bigfoot!!! We most likely heard Bigfoot.”
A beheaded pig greets us as we enter our home. A Yule goat from the upper floor, dragged all over the house and pushed down the stairs, is lying lifelessly in the corridor.
A cow has met its end by drowning in a bowl in the kitchen.
Under the Christmas tree devoid of half of its decorations sits Albert and stares at us. We have been away. The whole day. He worked on his latest performance and is happy to present it for us.
The crown of his creation meets us when I throw my tired bottom on the sofa, landing it midst of a pile of wet mice and fluffy white hearts; all the red ribbons that they hung by meticulously pulled out and left aside