Bit of a drama queen!

I've mentioned before how Austin is like a little dog the way he follows me about. He keeps so close to my leg, he's practically walking to heel! And if he wants me to do something for him, he's fine tuned his vocal repertoire to the point where he now swears I understand every word he says. And we argue! Oh yes we do. I almost, but not always, lose any argument I embark on with him as he can shriek louder and longer.

"I want fooooood. Now"

"Well you can't"

"Can"

"Can't"

"Can"

"Can't"

"Can" ....... I give up through sheer exhaustion. And he really doesn't "want foooood now", he just wants to annoy me. His eating habits are what you might call dainty! He will never eat his whole dish of food (unless it's Tescos finest boneless chicken breasts, cooked for exactly 33 minutes in tin foil on 190 degrees, chopped into one centimetre cubed chunks and left for precisely 7½ minutes to cool and served up on the best bone china and I sit there with him watching his back for infestations of Tigger or Two. Yeah right!). He'll pick at Morrison's TroutnPrawninJelly, then stick his delicate nose in the air and mince off into the garden to murder an innocent blue tit passing by on its way to next-door-but-ones cordon bleu bird feeder with a la carte menu and all weather roofing installed!! I actually saw him bouncing one poor unfortunate avian up and down like a basketball in front of the conservatory window; "Na na nana na, I don't need you or your poxy skinflint rations".

When he's killed enough of the local wildlife to cause me great distress and to satisfy his carnal desires, he returns to the house and sniffs contemptuously at the now encrusted and fermenting TroutnPrawninJelly, goes to the cupboard where the much inferior cuisine is kept and sets up such a yowl of derision and contempt that any opera diva would be jealous of his vocal range. Basically he's a Tatler Caff cat with Savoy Grill pretensions.

Desperate now to establish my moral, physical and speciest superiority I resort to giving him those pellet thingies that look as though they would be better utilised as ammunition during armed combat, inflicting mortal wounds on all those who are unfortunate enough to get in their way. He doesn't like them as it hurts his ginger-vitis, but the vet says they are good for him. Hee Hee Hee! I then hastily remove myself from the vicinity and retreat downstairs.

He's not finished with me yet. He waits patiently on the stairs until he hears me coming up, nips round the corner, sticks his head through the bannisters and thwacks me hard on the shoulder while making a petulant "myat" sound. I pin myself against the wall in an attempt to avoid the "long arm of the claw" and sidle along until I'm almost behind him. Because his head is wider than the gap in the bannisters, he has to turn it to get it through. The time it takes him to do that is just long enough for me to pounce and get him by the scruff!

Unfortunately, I'm not able to multitask, so getting a picture of Austin being "scruffed" is a bit beyond me until I employ a permanent film crew - you know like one of those fly on the wall docu thingys! Any offers?