Missing the point.

Susan lugs back a bag of cat litter – 12.5 kg and dumps some of its contents in a tray marked ‘Kitty’. I, of course, ignore this contraption – Con-trap.

Lil is supposed to wear a plastic bucket on her head but Susan wouldn't tie it on Lil's old turkey neck. "Only if she starts chewing at herself," Susan said.

"She needs it. She needs it," I said. She’d look so bloody funny. Susan pretended not to hear me!

Lil has had her hair shaved: neck, right and left back legs.) I had my camera waiting, poised, ready, but no!

"Get that camera out of my face," croaked Lil.

Lil scratches at the cat litter. Digs a nice little hole, carefully positions herself upon the tray, and pees all over the floor.

Unbelievable! Ferdinand on the front page of N.M.E

Unbelievable. Ferdinand's picture is on the front page of  N.M.E. Ferdinand the mangy!
"Where is he? Where's he been?" Lil Said.
"Sweden by the look of that link."
I'm not giving him the password for this newspaper. (I confess. I changed it. I am the keeper of the ginger journals.)
So, no, Ferdinand, you will not be able to write a thing (not that you wrote anything of interest anyway) until you get back in your box (which is being eyed by a very handsome black tom cat who we both prefer to you!) So there.
Plus, it gets very cold in Sweden in the winter and your orange overcoat is not what it was.
Double plus, Lil is going to have an operation at the end of the month not that you are interested!

Dolly: editor, nurse, and guardian of the password.

No I have not!

Nope!

Lil, because she had an operation and is recuperating, has been granted the right to pee in the house. I kid you not! Honestly!

"FERDINAND!”

"Streuth!" Can’t a being get some peace? A piece of peace?

“Ferdinand, I’ve a bone to pick with you!” Dolly Said.

"Turkey, chicken perhaps?"

I have closed my emerald eyes. 'Tis Sunday. The sun is shining, warming me, my box and I. Brian started it. The great mower race – brummm, brumm, bloody bruum. Just got my shut eye.— All Sunday, most of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, enough already! I need to sleep. Brian is the winner. His lawn is cut. It has pinstripes. The sod could work in the city and wear a bowler hat.

No one can compete. Apart from his neighbour who’s now going in for the challenge, and just as I was beginning to nod off again. His neighbour once removed began, and so it went on, and on, and on... The neighbour next to the neighbour next to...

I haven't slept.

Mow mow.

I am retiring to my tea chest creation by the canal bank.

Peaceful here. Just the sound of the water lapping against...

What the—

Bloomin barge!

It’s 5 o’-bloomin'-clock in the morning...

Phut phut phut.

Oh, go phut yourself!

Dolly : Ferdinand is in a really bad mood! Tea hee.

His stupid ginger head

Ferdinand has returned. I don’t want to know where he's been... I can see his stupid ginger head beneath me. But he doesn’t know that I know that he has returned!

I’m in my box. It’s a nice sunny day. Dolly is sitting on my glass roof. Right above my head...
It’s very distracting! All those stripes!

He’s typing. I’ll just sit here. He can see me. He knows I’m not bothered. Knows I don’t give a toss! I have no interest in where he has been. Although he has been gone a month... Not that I'm curious.  Nor did I care.

"DOLLY! DOOLLLEEEEEEEE. DOLLEEEEEEE. It’s Ferd, He is back!"

"Lilly ! Shhhhhh!"

"What?"

"Shhhhh."

"Shh? But!"

"Shh"!

"Shh! But... It’s Ferd!"

"Shush."
"He has..."
"Shhh."

"Returned home! Safe and sound.. Where has he been? It’s weeks. What did he say?"

"Lil. Be cool!"

"Be what?"

"Cool!"

"Cool? I am cool. The radiator’s not on and it’s none too warm. In fact I have goose bumps."

"Lil?"

"Yes, Dolly?"

"Never mind..."

I’d rather not live in a tea chest.

"Ferdinand?"
"Yes Lil."
"Ferd!"
"Yes Lil."

"Don’t mean to appear ungrateful or any thing! But I’d rather not live in a tea chest. I know you’ve been to a lot of trouble, but I’d rather lay on a radiator. This radiator if you don’t mind..."

"But Lil..."

"Ferd, I know  you’ve worked very hard. I’m not sure I could cope with the damp. I have a bit of Arthur Itus. Made him walk with a limp too and he was famous."
"Who?"
"Arthur! It's shocking the dull ache you get in your bones."
"Irish?"
"Did you know him?"
"No."
"Came from Blarney..."
"Lil. You may not a have a choice! You may have to..."

The witch makes smells!

I have been looking through the archives. Family documents! Surprising what turns up, or not, as the case may be. But this old movie, from the silent era, directed by my great, great, great, X great uncle is a great discovery.
Oh, yes. We, the Felidae's are a famous old theatrical family. Right back to Shakespeare and beyond... May I introduce to you? The silent. The old. The very creepy...
 The witch makes bad smells!