As those of you who are cat owners (or rather, who share their homes with cats, because as we well know, cats will not be owned by anyone)are aware, they are creatures who take their time about getting things done unless those things involve a) food b) chasing random light spots or c) food, in which case they develop the speed of a gazelle with a lion up its end.

So it has taken nearly a week since MMM resident (Texas Suite) Deanna, suggested (now we are chickenless)that I focus my anthropomorphic tendencies on the cats, and me suggesting it to the cats, and for them to decide whether they agree to being thrust into the media spotlight and having every inch of their fascinating nine lives scrutinised by a global audience. I have to say I wasn't going to say anything to them about Deanna's idea because I wasn't sure I could cope with the ensuing ego-expansion, but I've been so miserable this week being unable to talk to and through the animals, and the bees aren't being very helpful, hiding as they are from the torrential rain we've been treated to for the last three weeks or so, that I thought, 'What the heck' and mentioned it to Phoebe, Tybalt and Pandora,and they disappeared into a judgely huddle to consider terms and conditions.

Tybalt appeared at lunchtime, dressed in an expensive-looking suit and toting an even more expensive-looking briefcase. He dumped it on the kitchen table. He looked a bit cross.

'Are you okay?' I said. 'You look a bit cross.'
'This isn't my cross face,' said Tybalt. 'This is my pants are too tight face.'
'Why are you wearing pants that are too tight?'said I. I had slight sympathy with him because earlier in the week I put on a pair of 80 denier tights under my trousers because it was so cold and they've turned the heating off a school, and somehow during the day the tights did a 45 degree swivel and almost cut off the circulation to my knees.

'I don't know,' said Tybalt. 'I got a set of five pairs for Christmas and all of a sudden they feel bit tight. I think they may have shrunk in the wash. I can't think I've done something silly like put on weight.'
'Well,' I said, 'I didn't like to say anything, but you are looking a bit chubby...'
'How very DARE you!!' said Tybalt. 'And may I say you are a fine one to talk.'
'All right,' I said, because the last thing I wanted to do was get in a fat slinging episode with a cat in too tight pants. 'Take the weight off your Y-fronts and tell me what's in the briefcase.'

Tybalt opened the aforesaid case. He hefted a massive folder from it onto the table. Unfortunately he also hefted it onto the soda bread that Andy had made earlier, and turned it into a soda pancake.
'Terms and conditions,' said Tybalt. 'Before me and the girls will allow you to write about us in your log.'

I didn't like to tell him I'd already started.

'Let's hear them then,' I said. Tybalt reached into his waistcoat pocket and perched a pair of pince-nez on the end of his nose.
'I didn't know you wore glasses,' I said.
'They're purely for gravitas,' said Tybalt. 'Are you going to make many interruptions only I've go an appointment with my chiropractor in half an hour?'
'I shall stay schtum,' I said, 'but only because I am writing this on my I-pad and I'm still having trouble getting to grips with the punctuation settings.'
'Writing what??' said Tybalt, suspiciously.
'Nothing,' I said.

Tyablt began.

'Firstly, Phoebe wishes to be known by her full title which is the Grand Duchess Tsarina of Phoebely Phoebum Phoebovitch in recognition of her majestic Russian heritage. Why are you sniggering?'
'You said 'bum' ' I said. Tybalt glared at me over the top of his pince-nez. It's a very effective look. I think I ought to get some to wear at school.

'Secondly, Pandora wants a sparkly pink ballerina costume, some sparkly pink fairy wings, a sparkly pink pair of ballet slippers and a pond.'
'A pond?'
Tybalt frowned.'Sorry,' he said,'can't read my own writing. A wand.'
'Sparkly pink?' I said.
'Black,' said Tybalt. 'She wants it to double up as a map pointer for when she does the weather reports for Catavision Today.'
'And what do you want?' I said.
'All I want is a room somewhere,' said Tybalt.
Oh-oh, I thought.
'Somewhere far from the cold night air...'
'Tybalt...' I warned.
'With one enormous chaise...'
'You always do this!' I said. 'Absolutely NO songs from the musicals. I don't think I could stand the pace.'
'That'd be luvverly,' sang Tybalt.

And on a very high note, he pirouetted from the kitchen, his tight pants creaking, off to a probably much needed appointment with his chiropractor.

I suppose I should be grateful I got off so lightly. I was expecting them to demand much more. But they are fickle creatures and now, at this very minute, Pandora is sitting almost nose to nose with me looking a bit bug-eyed.

'Where is my pink sparkly tu-tu?' she says.

And so it all begins...