There’s been a lot of fuss about Dr Who and the whole regeneration thing. He’s young, he’s old, he’s fat, he’s thin, he eats jelly babies, he drinks Costa coffee. I know about these things, I can understand all TV except Bagpuss. But me? I was definitely in a bad way. Cancer smancer. Life one on the way out, no matter, I knew I had eight left.
They took me to the Place of Strange Smells, quite frankly I was feeling shite, and was glad to go for a change. They didn’t bother with that cage thing which smelt of my old wee. Hey, a fella’s gotta make a mark. Or two. I just remember a little prick ha ha ha, then blissful, pain-free sleep.
I was dreaming about food, scratching posts, digging in garden of the poncy house behind have having a fantastic dump in the hope that the little guy who asked her to stop me going on his property would get it all over his Gucci loafers. Then, ahhh. Dark, light, more light and….
Hello world, me-ow. I knew I was back and I was B.A.D. OMG I felt good, young again, a spring in my step, ready to go ratting and eat my own body weight in steak and chicken with a few of those crunchy, tasty biscuits followed by a good old coughing up of a fresh furrball. All that was needed was a good old preen and to lick my bits, gotta look after those family jewels.
But WTF? OK, I know this regeneration thing brings about a few changes, and I didn’t expect to be the same black and white. OK, tabby, that’s fine. Small, I can cope with that. But a girl? A GIRL? Cat Akers, the tom’s tom, a GIRL? Oh FFS I’m never going to live this down with the lads. And do you know what they’re calling me? Hidey. Hidey, I ask you, they can’t even spell it right, saying it’s because I ran off and hid. Too bloody right I did, don’t they know it’s still me? I just look a little different. I’m still badly-behaved though and no amount of looking cute will change THAT.