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My 24/7 Dreamies dispenser has gone wonky. If fact I think she’s broken.

Something hasn't been right in my human Exec P.A.’s world for a couple of weeks. Not sure what’s going on. Instead of pouring a glass of human catnip, (red wine), then sticking her head in the computer when she gets back from the place called work, she’s been twinkling Tom Cat Towers. By that I mean she’s been going through all cupboards, drawers, the shed and garage, tidying stuff up. She says it’s a life laundry; life is now sorted into three piles. Chuck, Charity … or Cherish. The seriously diminished Cherish pile is then twinkled and put back.

This left lots of space, some of which I have eyeballed as a potential nest for a good snooze. However, she is now busily filling the voids with other stuff, which doesn’t make sense.

Gabion, my dim bro, who knows nothing, says it’s Brexit. He doesn’t know what a Brexit is, but it’s a word he hears every time, and I mean every time, he walks past the television, so he’s convinced that’s the reason for all the strange activity.

Other cats that we know say that their humans too are filling cupboards too. They are filling them with loo rolls, cleaning materials, cans of soup and beans for this Brexit.

But it can’t be Brexit that is the cause of the reorganisation of Tom Cat Towers. Human P.A. is stocking up, nay stockpiling with sherbets; bottles of wine in the sale in the supermarket down the road at £4 a pop. Duty free gin. The posh grain and fruit bars which she adores, but are rather expensive, are being stashed away. She is a coffee snob, and the cupboard where the Hoover lives now has several tins of ‘Monsoon Malabar Elephant’ coffee nestling there and the odd jar of Harrods and Fortnum and Mason jam and marmalade which came in Christmas hampers from marketing companies have taken up residence in her ‘treat’ cupboard.

It’s all very puzzling. In fact, I think she has developed siege mentality.

Today, 30 bags of cat kibbles, forty packs containing 4 cat meat sachets, boxes of cat kibbles, Dreamies and little pots of Whiskas treats, have all materialised and been secreted away with the other feline food which has recently been bought in bulk.

Exec P.A. is over the moon with it as it was bought for the most ridiculously low price from the ‘In and out of date pop and choc shop’ in Stoke. She also bought a load of stuff for the ‘human-food’ cupboard and seems chuffed with that too!

Gabion and I have been rather perplexed by it. Last year she bought a little extra cat food just before a great dollop of snow arrived and cut Tom Cat Towers off for ages, as we turned up the heating and snuggled by the radiators. So, we were grateful that she had taken our tummies into consideration when looking at the snowy weather which was rolling in to cut us off.

But the amount of cat food that has been shipped into Tom Cat Towers makes me think a massive, ginormous avalanche is on the way. And, it appears to have a very strange name ……. Redundancy.

Yours, scratching my head at what it all means!

Lord Reginald Desmond Vagabond of Tom Cat Towers.