Larry gets the sack

Hello - my name is Ozzy and some of you may have seen photos of me playing with my friends the lizards, voles and frogs. After I get bored playing with them I usually kill them, but that's another story.  

I am a cat and I'm named after the singer Ozzy Osbourne, from the pioneering and massively influential metal band Black Sabbath. I was named Ozzy because when I first arrived at Marc and Anne's (I hesitate to call them Mum and Dad, as that would be a bit weird wouldn't it?), my coordination was a bit wonky and I kept banging my head into the furniture (headbanger, geddit?). I do like Ozzy and I hope that, like him,  I can one day bite the head off a bat. There are a few around here, so who knows? Paws crossed.

So why am I writing the blog now and not Larry, I hear you ask. Well one answer would be that he is a small metal sculpture and they can't write blogs - but then I am a cat, so that logic doesn't really work. No, the real reason is that Larry has been sulking for the last few weeks. He feels ignored and undervalued since the influx of holiday guests has taken Marc and Anne's attention away from him. I have told him he just needs to deal with this. Once the season is over, he will receive a bit more attention. But it's no use, he just stares into space, his expression unchanging. Well let him sulk - some of us have got better things to do.

It has been a very busy and exciting time throughout July and August. We have had some lovely guests and we've enjoyed nice barbecues, children's art workshops and, best of all, some fun musical evenings. One of our guests was an excellent Belgian singer and songwriter. I'm sure he would be embarrassed if I told you his name, so I will: it is Pieter Cooreman. He and Marc had a couple of evenings when they entertained everyone with a selection of classic songs (and some slightly weird Dutch ones). Everyone sang along, following the lyrics on their iPads and it was a lovely atmosphere. They thought I wasn't around, but I was hiding in a tree listening and purring (I particularly liked that Cat Stevens song). 

Marc goes to get bread every morning at the local village, but not until he has fed me - I mean, one has to get one's priorities right doesn't one? After breakfast I'll usually sleep for three or four hours and then it will be time for lunch. After lunch I'll usually sleep for four to five hours and then it will be time for dinner. After dinner, I might have a wander around and look for some children to frighten, or I might play with some of my small animal or bird friends before killing them. Then it will be time to go out night-clubbing with my mates down the road. It really is quite a pleasant life. 

Well, that's all for now. It's another lovely sunny day and I'm off to find an unusual place to sleep. 

Catch you later! (as the cat said to the mouse)...
Ozzy