Temple of soft warm cosy DOOM!

There's a lot wrong with the world, not least of all the amplifying of its concerns by a media who thrive off peddling foreboding and suspicion. I don't have stocks but now is a good time to invest in 'Myth Perpetuation Inc' and maybe a time share at the newly refurbished, 'Extreme Views'. 
Any sense of community can now be found watered down on aisle six of the all encompassing pile it high-permarket. Why have cotton, when you have silk? Why have pride and respect, when you can have mass produced greed at half the price? Why take the bus when you can drive fear home? 
Information sharing has never been easier, so dodging the daily doom laden arse twoddle has become a skill in itself. There's never been a better time to curl up on the sofa and hide until all the noise and hysteria blows itself out much like the hugely overpriced fireworks currently on sale. Ooh! nice metaphor!! 
What is a metaphor? is it one better than a metathree? A 'meta' sounds metric so how many do you get to the pound?
With the tabloids promising mass extinction everyday, Frank has taken to hiding under pillow forts for some much needed R&R (rest and ripping holes in the furniture). 
Behold!!
It's tough growing up where you're fed everyday and someone else cleans up your poop. Those flies won't annoy themselves and anything small and round won't naturally migrate to under the sofa where it belongs. Being a young cat in today's hectic world is tiring alright without all the other capers going on beyond the front door. 
I'm going to take a leaf out of Frank's well chewed book and not watch all the hyperbole and rhetoric filled news today in favour of going outside and actually meeting people and embracing their cultures with a view to expand my own horizons in order to become a better human being. 
Actually, sod that, it's raining again. Pillow fort anyone?

Big Plans, Tiny Mind

Global domination doesn't just happen overnight, especially if, like Frank, you're only six months old. Conquering the world has to happen one human at a time. First off, you have to give the illusion that you wouldn't hurt a fly. 

"You! Human!! smooth me!"

I say illusion because as any cat person will tell you, cats love hurting flies. All forms of creepy crawly are pawed, chewed, half drowned in cat spit and slowly torn limb from limb by razor sharp talons with no opposable thumbs. William Wallace got off easy! Watch any cat 'play' with a crane fly and then Google 'Spanish Inquisition techniques'. Controlling humans is easy once they think you're cute and adorable but it doesn't hurt to remind them who controls who every now and then.

"I like not this smoothing."

"You must be taught a lesson!"

nomm nomm nomm

Once you have mastery of your human slaves you also have to establish dominance over any other would-be meowing megalomaniacs. This is where Frank's plans, like so many cat toys, get stuck under the sofa. The immovable object in question is Bill. A placid pussy by nature, Bill has rediscovered his playful side since Frank's arrival. Bill is substantially bigger than the budding bug assassin and likes to remind Frank of this during sparring practice. Bill will initiate training by lying in front of Frank with a 'one pounce will finish me off' look in his eye. Frank, being the magnet to trouble that he is, will naturally leap in for the kill. However, this is when Bill goes all Kung Fu Panda and leaps into action. 

Multiple kick combos and biting are the order of the day and Frank soon realises that he's in over his cotton wool filled head. He'll recoil to try a fresh attack from a different angle but Bill has seen this before and is not adverse to catching Frank mid leap and slamming his face into the carpet. Seriously, it's like watching a sumo drop kick Jimmy Krankie into next week and then add a falling elbow to the chops just for fun. 
        Twitter Peeps, watch the full fight HERE!

An army marches on its stomach.....which is bad news for Frank as he has no army and likes to eat everything in sight. When his middle age spread kicks in he'll need his own stair lift. 
All in all, it looks like the universe is safe from the Bengal buccaneer. Earth has nothing to fear from this meowing marauder. Just so long as you know where to smooth him.

"awwww yeaahh"

Crouching Dragon, Hidden Tiger

Cats are like ninjas. Their knowledge, skills and techniques are passed down from cat to cat. Through generations and many moggy millennia they have become adept at hunting, stalking and stealth. Each breed of cat has a particular talent which has been honed and crafted throughout the ages. 
The end result are many breeds of cat that are tougher, braver and stronger than their ancestors. Some are great leapers, some are incredible climbers, others capable of complex puzzle solving, some can run at incredible speed.....

And then there's Bill and Frank. It's a good thing Frank hasn't got two brain cells to rub together because he would learn nothing from the sensei of sleep that is Bill.
As Frank grows his teacher is supposed to pass on his years of collective wisdom. Instead, all Frank has learned is where's good for a kip and when is best for naps. Curiosity we're told isn't good for cats, so it's a good thing Bill has none. He knows where to eat, where to pooh and where the treats are kept. What more do you need to know?
As said in a previous blog, Frank has taken to watching the TV for additional guidance. 

Here for instance he is attentively watching as many many pounds of uncooked sausages are hauled out of a forest. With new found intelligence and a gung-ho attitude he roped Bill in for a test of his prowling proficiency. Bill is clever enough to know that a forest for hunting and a fridge are one and the same, so diverted our intrepid explorer towards the kitchen with mixed results. 

"chocolate trifle yeh?"

"yeh, it should be near the top"

"I can't see it"

"you pillock Frank! you had your paw on it, it's right there!"

Between the two of them they have the brain power of a dandelion and intellectual prowess of a tapeworm called Susan. They could of course be phenomenal cunning and this is all an act for an easy life, or, they're a substantial leap backwards for the theory of evolution.
Either way, the spinning noise coming from Darwin's grave hasn't got any quieter in the last few months.

Chill Bill.