The Cats of Vietnam – Scrapbook

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Every cat in Vietnam looks as miserable as sin. Vietnam is not a place for cats. Although have you ever met a cat brimming with optimism, with the world at its feet? I love cats. My missus has cats. They eat nothing but the finest imported tuna, a broth of succulent tuna meat, pineapple, lychees and god knows what else. Do they ever look happy after devouring a dinner that costs more than a night at the Savoy?


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Yesterday I found a fresh dump outside the cat litter tray. This of course was a protest dump about the quality of the litter. We recently downgraded the quality of the cat litter as an experiment, but clearly the litter is either too coarse a texture for their snowflake paws, maybe too scented for their finely tuned palette, perhaps it’s not tacky enough for them to coil their turds. The spoilt bastards.


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That said they are loveable aren’t they? If only we could all protest in that way, with such haughty insouciance. Imagine the next time the waiter delivers a wine that’s not quite complimenting the fish, instead of sending the bottle back you just lower your kegs and curl one out on the counter.


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