That darn' cat! (Warning, very long, a bit like his tail)

Does anyone other than me remember a song of ^^ that title? I think it may have been sort of attached to a film, could google, but haven't.

Anyway, bloody Oliver Sprout, lovely though he is in many ways, is about to be re-named "Liability" !

He is in the doghouse!! It all seems to come down to his damn tail. For heavens sake, he's had it since he was born, and you would think he would be able to keep it under at least some sort of control, but no.
He likes to watch the fish in the tank, a harmless enough hobby and one which Digby enjoys too. The best vantage point is from the Pembroke table, situated at the left hand end. Many a happy hour has Digby spent there, watching the fish, while the fish watch him. (I don't know who of the parties involved are more entertained

Digby has the odd completely ineffective pat of the paw on the glass, the fish seem to congregate to look at the large stripey thing with a mixture of disbelief and wonder.) But Oliver Sprout? Oh no! In the course of getting into position on the table he has managed to dislodge a rather large framed photo of the grandchildren, and somehow break the tab thing that one uses to prop it up. (The fact that it is a particularly bad photo, a very sullen looking DGS, and DGD in what seems to be desperate need of a jolly good nose wiping/blowing, is beside the point, I had earmarked that frame for a rather nice photo of one of my favourite sheep). Then he disturbed the peace the other evening by knocking over a small silver inkwell, which clattered nicely on the laminate flooring, no damage done, but it was during a particularly tense part of some drama I was watching and rather ruined the moment, in addition to making me jump out of my skin!

The final straw was the knocking over of a china border collie, in full stealth/herding mode of a trio of sheep. The dog was on a wooden plinth, the sheep were sort of free ranging and managed to escape unharmed, but the dog sustained a broken leg. I was particularly miffed about this as I had bought the dog with money that my Grandmother had sent me on her last Christmas, and I'd had to argue like billy o to get my ex-husband to agree that I should have it! I know they are only "things" but I was pretty not pleased. Mr P has said he will mend it next weekend, and I know he will do a good job (luckily the collie is still managing to stand, and if you didn't look closely you would never know, but I'm still not impressed!)

He is sitting to the side of the keyboard as I type (Oliver Sprout, not Bill) and I've already had to shift over a bit as he managed to rest his head on the "+" sign on the right hand side of the number pad and produce his own message of +++++++++++++++++, which I have of course deleted.

He has also decided that walking along the bannisters is the latest craze, and both Mr P and I have been convinced that it will end in tears. He nearly came a cropper the other day when the towels that I had dangled there to air slipped beneath his paws, but he excelled himself earlier. He gave a great leap and landed on a newish top that I had left there, slipped quite badly and was left dangling for what seemed an age before plummeting to the stairs. Luckily both he and the garment were unharmed, I would have been less than impressed if the top had any holes in it, because it is one of the few that seem to be even remotely flattering now that I have put on more weight over the hips and thighs.

I am very fond of him though.........