He’s looking at me

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Warning, discussing carnivore thoughts.

You know you are truly owned by a car when it sits on the fridge and stares at you. Where is my cat milk? It seems to say. Is it properly chilled? Not too cold, but just enough to cool the cat on a warm afternoon.

Is there roast chicken in the fridge for him. Delicately flavoured with just the right amount of jelly juices.

You know you are owned when the cat looks down at you, then puts his paw out and catches the shoulder of your tee shirt, claw holding firm and stopping you in your tracks.

If cats could speak what would they say? Probably feed me. Hold me, look after me. Sort out my litter tray, human.

What do we get for this care? Kneeding paws that turn to claws, licked boyyoms then they lick your hand, ew! But you can’t fight those eyes. Those staring eyes.

Trifle dipping?

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Oh dear! My blancmange was too warm when I put it on top of the jelly. And I got extra thick cream which I over whipped.  The whole thing is a delicious mess!

Now, trifle dipping, what is that? The act of knicking an extra spoonful of trifle after you’ve had your fair share! I’ve been known to slice a thin sliver off our Christmas trifle late at night. It is my favourite dessert.

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Slugs and snails and puppy dogs tails

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The other reason why I drew a slug.

I had fetched a takeaway meal from our local Chinese restaurant last night but had to go out for an hour before coming home to eat it with my hubby.

An hour turned into two (as it does), so I came home hungry and ready to eat.

I said hello, and my hubby complained he had lost a bottle of beer. He could remember drinking one but could not find the other bottle. But he proudly said he had made a loaf (he likes making bread). We went in the kitchen and he showed me the bread he has made. So where’s the takeaway I asked, looking in the fridge which was empty. Oh I put that outside to cool down, he said!? What?

He went out and bought the bag in, together with the beer bottle which he had taken out too.

Both had slugs on them!

I’m sorry to say it went in the bin. The little trays the food was in were covered with hungry slugs. The beer was empty, not because he had drunk it, but because he had put some in the bread. I was not a happy person.

Next time I’ve told him to use the fridge!