The story of eight wonderful cats
Can you imagine me a cat having to learn English?
I’ll tell you why I had to. Because Mum has translated her book about us cats into English. Well done I say. I’ve read it. It’s good. It’s quite fun reading in some places. Some of the cats have been really bad and have done disgusting things. Like that fellow now dead and burried who caught a magpie. And the one who made it his speciality to catch yarn. Lal the little devil is definately not better than any of them. I know that Mum is fed up with him always bringing woodpigeons and blackbirds into the house. She hates it, when he kills them underneath the couch leaving a lot of mess. Anyway Mum loves me and I’ve never done that kind of things. I prefer to care for Mum and to look after her. I also try to make sure, that she doesn’t go too far away, because I’ve heard that twolegged Mums don’t see and smell well. I’m quite simply afraid that she can’t find her way back home. But to make sure that she doesn’t go out of my sight is a huge job. I have to be over her all the time and still sometimes she manages to disappear. Even sometimes both her and Dad disappears. Then I have to be alone with that little rascal Lal, sometimes for days or weeks on end. And that’s tough. He is so bigheaded and thinks so much of himself just because he’s a pedigree cat and I'm not.
And of course he won the competition pulling the chickenbone, so I ended up on the back of the book.