Keeping my ears open

There is an interesting thing about my human family. They want to tell me everything. And I mean everything. For example, I know that my Mum puts six eggs in the Christmas pudding. See, Isaac, she'll say, this recipe needs six eggs. Now I don't understand any of this and Lord don't ask me what a recipe is or why it needs so many eggs but I know that it does. Thankfully, it stopped at the eggs and there's been no mention of it needing any of my kibble.

Then there's Dad, now he tells me that the referee is completely useless. From this, I deduct that a referee is a type of cat and I keep a watching brief to ensure it doesn't get out of that glass box in the corner.

I also know that Mum's driving is hopeless (Dad tells me this a lot), that Dad is going to have no socks to wear  - ever! -  if he doesn't put them in the wash him bloody self (according to Mum). By the way, socks I know about and have an active interest in and I am glad Dad leaves them on the floor for me.  I know that Dad's boss is a bore and that Mum believes if Hugh Grant is in this film the phone better not ring.

I'm just glad I have lots of fur because they like to rub my coat and this seems to encourage them to start talking.  So I keep my ears open because one day, some of this stuff could come in useful.