says.
'How would you know?'
'Well d'oh, I don't really think that a big fat blobby white and ginger puddn's going to have any very special relatives hiding in her background. More likely your umbi just got knocked up by the neighbourhood boss feeli.'
'Now wait a minute, my umbi wasn't like that. She was always very particular.'
'She may well have been particular, but that doesn't mean you've got any pedigree blood in you. You're just a wuzzer, so you'd better learn to live with it,' Maharani says.
'So what about you, do you have a pedigree?'
Maharani puts her head down and looks sideways. 'Well it's not always so simple… '
'Don't avoid the question, I presume either you have or you haven't.'
'Mmm, I've got a part pedigree. My umbi's umbi was a pure-bred Persian but she… well she, shall we say, had a liaison with a, um, boss wuzzer feeli. And then my umbi well she sort of did too.'
'So you're a quarter Persian?' I chuckle. 'Well at least I'm a full-blooded wuzzer; not a quarter of something special.'
Maharani huffs and turns away, flicking her tail at me.
'You didn't tell me how Red and Mars got their names.'
'So ask them,' Maharani says huffily.
'Our pedigree names,' Thai says, 'and don't laugh, our names are Hazelvale Mongkut King of Siam Mr Red Tulip and Hazelvale Mongkut King of Siam Mr Mars Bar.'
'Ha ha ha,' I crack up, and flop on my side laughing out loud. 'What's with the chocolate bars?'
'Obviously, we're chocolate point Siamese, so we can only suppose our breeder thought it was funny.'
'It sure is,' I splutter. 'But then Red and Mars are a whole lot better than Donald and Derek'.
'If you think that's funny, you ought to hear Zsa Zsa's pedigree name,' Mars says, obviously trying to change the subject. 'Let's see, it's Superstarz Hollywood Honeybunch Prissy Miss Delilah. That's right isn't it, Zsa Zsa?'
There's a momentary pause and a well-rehearsed Jane Russell sort of voice replies, 'Yes, that is correct, Mars. And I do wish you'd call me Christobel. My parents were both highly awarded at all the shows.'
'Yeah, born on a bed of blue ribbons, that one,' Rocky pipes up.
'Oh, don't be so insolent and unpleasant, you old wuzzer. There's nothing wrong with being proud of your lineage. Besides, I'm going to be a queen when I get out of here.'
'Oh sure,' Maharani chimes in. 'I can just see the pageantry, Queen Zsa Zsa of… where?'
'Oh shoosh, you silly girl. I'm really going to be a queen. My deuxjambs have an extremely handsome ecsotique chinchilla lined up for me to… well, you know. So with my beauty genes and his strength genes, our kisskies will be just purrrrrfect. Like me.'
'Hmm. Modesty's a curse you know. So's humility by the way,' I say. 'I just bet none of them will be as much fun or as easy going as my kisskies, bless their hearts.'
'Yes, well I bet they were a mixed bag.'
'What do you mean?'
'I just figure that if you had kisskies they'd probably be every colour under the sun but without a hint of symmetry or style,' Zsa Zsa responds in her haughty voice.
'Individuals, yes, every one of them. And I taught them to be independent. I bet yours will be spoilt rotten by deuxjambs and completely unable to do anything for themselves.'
'I'm tiring of this conversation,' Zsa Zsa huffs. 'Besides, it's time for my morning nap. So let it be known that Queen Christobel is retiring to sleep.'
'Jeebs, what a performance. Anyone would think she's vying for an Acatemy Award,' I say, somewhat wittily I think. I hear Big Dan and the other boys chuckling.
'She does run the drama classes here,' Big Dan says. 'Apparently her umbi and fuddy are also sought-after actors.'
'Sure, and mine are champion athletes.'
Just then I notice a white feeli move to the front of the pen next to Maharani. I raise my paw and nod in his direction. 'Hi there, Juno's the name.'
'You're wasting your breath on him, he's deaf as a post,' Maharani advises.
'So what's his name?'
'Apparently his deuxjambs call him Snowy. Yeah, really original. But his name's actually Oscar. We all call him Beethoven though.'
'Why, coz he likes music?'
'No, silly. Because he's deaf.'
'Oh, I get it. Why's he got his ear to the floor?'
'He feels the vibrations; he can tell when Miss Steph's coming way before any of us can hear her.'
'That's handy.'
'Yeah, it gives us a chance to stop what we're doing and put on our pussano faces so she won't suspect anything,' Maharani says.
'But what is it you do that you don't want her to know about? I mean apart from the exercise stuff.'
'Well, in the afternoons we have choir practice, bingo, reading group, music appreciation, ping pong, dizza, um, if it's warm enough we have luaus outside, or queekee spotting. It just depends on what we feel like doing. Or you can do nothing if you want. Some of the older ones just like to sleep all afternoon, but hey, that's up to them.'
'What's dizza?'
'Oh, that's a fun game. We'll show you later. Just make sure you don't eat all your kitzbitz, 'cos you'll need 'em for the game.'
What's in a name?
I wake up feeling a bit thick headed, like you do when you've enjoyed a really deep sleep and you're not really sure whether you're awake or whether you're still dreaming. I yawn and stretch my front legs out, spreading my claws. I roll onto my back and take a lazy glance out the window, with my legs still stretched out above my head. Nope, I wasn't dreaming. This is heaven on a fishstick, this place. I suddenly realise there's a lot of whispering going on around me. I prick my ears up.
'Shh, I think she's awake.'
'Must be, can't hear the snoring any more.'
Oh, oh, I have a terrible feeling they're talking about me.
'Could you possibly snore any louder?' Maharani asks.
'Who, me? I don't snore! I never snore.'
'Oh yes you do,' comes a number of voices in unison.
'We all had to put our heads under our blankets or armpits to drown you out during catnap hour,' Red and Mars remark.
'I
