Birthday portrait.

I am eight and this is my one hundredth entry in my diary so it's a very special day. As nobody knew my exact date of birth I celebrate for the whole of July. Well, I try to.

Now, do I times by ten or by seven? If it's ten then I am eighty but if it's seven then I'm only ummmm, would it be sixty four? No. That sounds like a song.

Anyway, I'm still as fit as a fiddle and can still jump as high as a kite and can run as fast as a ....rabbit. I get plenty of practice in this house.

I was to have a birthday portrait done but only on condition I would allow J to groom me before hand. Nope. Not for a hundred birthday portraits. I don't mind my head and ears brushed gently but no further down my back thank you very much. We buck rabbits have our pride. Doe buns might like to be titivated so they can attract good looking chaps like me but not yours truely. If I can't get to some bits to straighten then they have to stay fluffy. Rabbits don't get fur balls like cats, thank goodness. Well, rarely.

Eight is a good age for a rabbit. My cousins in the wild rarely live longer than eighteen months,or so I read in a book. This is my pensive look by the way.
I might take a short nap now. Napping is one thing you are allowed to do when you are as old as I am.
Before I go, I thought you might like to see my latest artistic creation. I did it all by myself on the best sofa. I know George will like it. He loves frills.

Happy birthday to me.

Parisian chats.

They've been away again which pleased me no end because they arranged for a friend to come and watch TV with me in the evening. I still had my usual maid, Pauline, who deals with things in the morning. The best bit was, Bev didn't know how much carrot I am allowed so I OD'd on it and put on a few grams .

All in all, they were delighted because I had been losing a smidgeon in this hot weather. Bev said, "He likes to be hand fed doesn't he?" You betcha!
Mind you, she sent a text message to my lot in Paris complaining about how loudly I snore. Did she have to mention it?

Talking about putting on weight, what do you think of Mimi's friend, Tom Tom?

It must be difficult to get enough exercise being an indoor, apartment-living cat but he can still jump up onto kitchen benches.

Mimi keeps telling TT he should not be trying to steal croquettes from her tin because he's too fat but the problem is, Mimi is bi-lingual and is speaking English while TT just speaks French. I think Dani, his mum, should teach him a few phrases before she takes him to Mimi for his holidays or maybe Chachat who lives in Edinburgh could give him a few words of advice. I think she speaks French. Now, yours truly can fly through the air like a puff of wind. I can't imagine TT will ever be able to do that.