Hello there, little twenty-eleven-ions. First off, I sincerely hope you have a great April! Filled with greatness and… lego. And, like, whales and stuff. And joy. OH THE JOY I WISH UPON YOU. Now, today, my minions, we will be reading the story of the puppy and the kitten. Well, I say we. I mean you. You know that, I know that. I was being inclusive, like Primary school teachers try and fail to do. “We’re going to watch a film today, children!” “We are, but you’re not, are you, miss? You’re going outside to have a little smokey and bitch about your salary.” But nonetheless, I’m writing a story about a puppy and a kitten. And if you don’t like that… I’m sorry. I love you.

So, I got my kitten when I was about nine. Everyone had told me that, though cats aren’t as affectionate as dogs, they stay with you, whereas dogs may run away. Or something like that. ‘tever. And from then on, I decided to see what my cat would do when I pretended to die. Once every couple of weeks, I’d have a horrible heart attack or seizure or something, and every time, the cat would walk around me for a while, then either walk off or sit on my face.








This went on for about six years. Every couple of weeks, I’d die, and every time, my cat wouldn’t bat an eyelid. So I thought “I know, I’ll get a dog! A dog will care!! I’m not completely sure what made me come to that conclusion, but I decided I needed a dog. So I begged and begged my mother to get me a dog. And time after time, she said no.
“They’re too expensive!” she said.
“You won’t look after it!” she said.
“It’ll poop in the house!” she said.
But I cared not. I wanted a dog, and I’d do anything to get a pet that’d actually care when I died. So I nagged and nagged for about, what, three years? And she kept saying no.

So one day in July, I came home (wasn’t meant to for another couple of hours, but my friend and her boyfriend were sucking each other’s faces, and I needed to get away from them) and nobody was home. I went to my room and took a photo that looked a bit like this:


And then the front door started making front-door-noises, and I was like GET UP AND CHECK so I got up, and went to the kitchen, and guess what I saw…


I was like OH MY GOD DYING. Not at my mum. She’s all scary and mean. I mean the fluffy little ball of fur standing in my kitchen. And it just stood there. Being all cute.
I played ferociously with that puppy. Every day, I’d take her for long walks, and when she got tired, I’d carry her back home. I’d make sure she always had food and clean water. I’d cuddle her 24/7. I’d take her everywhere. And then she got boring.
So I went back to my cat.


But she was having none of it.


So now I want a horse.