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Gibbs' 6th birthdayI’ve just had a birthday, so I’ve been told.  Being a cat, I have no idea what a birthday is, or what its for.  Mum said I was six years old now.  I haven’t a scooby what that means.  As you no doubt know, cats live in the present.  Unlike humans who spend a lot of time living in the past or worrying about the future – they forget to live in the now.  So, birthdays and numbers of years that I’m supposed to have lived mean absolutely nothing to me.

You won’t find many cats wishing to be an astronaut or a film star. I’m happy living with Mum and Casey. We do our own thing each day. And if our days are pretty much the same, that’s way we cats’ like it.  We don’t like change to our routine.  We don’t like change, full stop.  So, Mum gets up in the morning, and the first thing we all do is a group ‘hello’.  Casey usually flops down on the carpet to let Mum know how starving he is, while I butt heads with Mum.  Then we all go into the kitchen and Casey and I sit down while Mum prepares our breakfast.

While we’re eating breakfast, she feeds Clive, the black cat who lives next door.  He’s a POW (Puss On Welfare) but we don’t discuss that.  He gets his breakfast and then he goes off to his sleeping place till Mum feeds him again.  Once she’s emptied our water bowls and given us clean ones with fresh water in, and she’s made sure we’ve had all the breakfast we want, then it’s her turn for her breakfast.

I usually go upstairs and sleep on the quilty bed she made me.  It’s in Gibbs on his quilther bedroom and I can sleep up there for hours.  Casey usually sits next to Mum on the sofa while she has her breakfast.  They watch Breakfast TV on the BBC, catching up on world events and news.

At the moment, there’s something horrible going on in the world and no one is safe, so Mum has to stay in the house for something like twelve weeks.  Casey and I don’t know what twelve weeks are, but we do know it’s serious because Dad hasn’t been coming round to see us as often as he normally does. He brings Mum some shopping and he brought us a whole stack of our cat food, but he has to be careful as well.

So, there’s a lot of change going on, and quite frankly, Casey and I are not happy about it.   We cats are not happy about change, as I told you already.  Every day Mum watches something called the news on the television and there are some very serious-faced men on there who are telling you humans that you must stay indoors, you have to save the NHS, and you have to save lives.  Like I said, that doesn’t mean a thing to Casey and me, but the men keep saying you have to do it.  Mum’s doing it.  So’s our Dad, and so are lots of our friends.

Stay safe people.   Stay indoors and eat cake – no, I made that bit up.  The men didn’t say you had to eat cake, although I expect there are some humans that will eat cake, lots of it. And hopefully, Mum will be allowed out of the house after these things called ‘twelve weeks’ have passed, and Dad will be able to come round and see me and Casey again – because we miss him.  I told you already, we don’t like change – and this is change.  Mum said it’s going to be like this for quite a while yet and we all have to muck in and get on with it, as best as we can.

As long as we’ve got our dinners and I can sit on Mum’s lap every day, I shall do my best to accept this new situation – but under protest, let me tell you.    

Till the next time

Gibbs (who really doesn't like change)

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