Must be a phase of the moon

For the past week, or so, whenever I have sat down and started to do something one or other of the bloody cats has started yowling or scratching at the to be let in or out. How is it that the little gits are so persistent and that their vocal demand is perfectly pitched to hit my central nervous system like lemon juice in a cut....

..... I am jerked, puppet like from my endeavour to act as door man for the little sods. This is where it gets ridiculous. Most of the time they don't seem to want anything particular. They just fancy a mooch round the closed off room and then want to come back and try another door or see whether they can kip on the keyboard, basically anything that interrupts me from my mission.

I am starting to think that they are in competition to see how many doors they can actually get me to open in a set amount of time. My suspicions were alerted this morning when Eddy wanted to view the cellar. There is absolutely nothing down there to entice a cat. It is a typical cellar; cool and slightly damp and marked by a complete absence of rodents. Whilst the remainder of the house features warm, soft beds and cat food Eddy wants to go and check on the St Emilion. He's messing with my head.

Well they need to be careful as Potato was sat by the meat slicer last night and I noticed that he would comfortably fit on the mechanism that slides the meat past the blade. It was at this point that a synapse sparked and a new Deli product was on the drawing board.....

..... Parma Cat. It would be a 100% certified number one seller, Cat shaped, wafer thin slices of air cured cat. How chic would that look on a plate? I hope the furry cads read this and realise that the one with the monkey brain and opposable thumb is getting ideas above his station.