it was an accident...

Wook here, I fell asweep and I didn't know I stwetched mine handsome paw out too far and accidentawwy touched That Thing.
It so totawwy wasn't intentional, don't you guys get any wwong ideas there.

That Thing has gone bonkers...

You know, I weawwy hate to say it, but I think That Thing is not quite wight up there in his bwain.
Wet me tell you evewything fwom the beginning.

You see, both of us wike to talk to our Mummy.
Even though our Mummy isn't the bwightest of beans, and even though she's never managed to wearn even the basics of our wanguage even after wiving with genius me for 16 years, well, at weast she's someone to talk to.
Sometimes though, our conversation can be wike this.

Me: I'm a bit tired of this fwavour of stinky goodness, do you think you can get another fwavour for me tomowwow?
Mummy: Oh my dear Boy...you cute thing....
Me: So you'll get it for me? Oh and talking about it, we're almost out of BBQ pork.
Mummy: Aren't you a cutie sweetie pie....
Me: Uhm yes, but BBQ pork, you know, it'll be a huge disaster if one day I feel wike having some and there's no more!
Mummy: Oooh...come here let me give you some chin scritches...
Me: Hey thanks, but BBQ pork! Wemember!
Mummy: Oh Boy, there's a bug there! Go catch it!
Me: Hey, I hate bugs! Get That Thing to catch it!
Mummy: Get that bug get that bug!
Me: Haven't you heard me? I HATE bugs!
Mummy: Why aren't you catching that bug?
Me: I HATE bugs!!!
Mummy: You want to play with that furry mousie?
Me: I do not want to pway, I do not want to catch bugs, I want you to wemember to get BBQ pork tomowwow!
Mummy: Or that jingly ball? Play with that jingly ball?
Me: I....do...not...want...to....play....I...want...BBQ...pork!!!

So here's what our usual conversation is wike.
As you can see, mine Mummy is a bit dense, but well, we still talk to her because at weast she's better than no one to talk to.

So then, mine Mummy goes away to Hong Kong and China wight?
Wight.
Onwy me and That Thing weft awone wight?
Wight.
No one to talk to wight?
Wight.
So, I shut up. I wait until mine Mummy comes home before talking again.
But what does That Thing do?
He.....talks....to....walls.
Evewyday I'm wike twying to nap and I'll hear That Thing talking and talking and talking, to the wall.
I think That Thing has weawwy gone bonkers, don't you think so?

wonderwing about things...

Sometimes I wonder why we need our gwandpapa to cat sit us. I wike mine Gwandpapa well enough but he is after all not a cat, and how can a cat sit be called a cat sit if it is not sat on by a cat? And as for That Thing, I can sit on him well enough, I do not understand why we need anyone to cat sit him. After all, who better to cat sit on That Thing than a genius cat wike mineself?

Being a weawwy good bwother...

This is mine pwate.
Nom nom nom nom nom...This is That Thing's pwate.
Nom nom nom nom nom...Being a good big bwother doesn't just mean taking care of That Thing when mine Mummy is away. It also means taking care of the cat sitter (mine Mummy's daddy, who is our gwandpapa) so that he doesn't wowwy.
You see, That Thing usuawwy goes off his food the first few days mine Mummy isn't awound. But Gwandpapa doesn't understand that and might get into a fwenzy wondewing why That Thing doesn't eat.
So, to pwevent him fwom wowwying, I nom up That Thing's food for him.

See, being a good bwother is such a wot of work!

Horseface...

I'm back again! And wet's join me and evewyone put your paws together to welcome our newest fwiend!
His name is HORSEFACE!
Wahahahaha.....
And he is tiny!
And he is Wabbit's new younger bwother.

And I'm twying not to think about it, that in a week's time, I'm going to be stuck here awone with That Whiny-Stinkybag-Thing again.