The Others went to IKEA. They bought lots of cardboard and stupid candles. I got this little box with a hole in it. I can sit in the hole like a cat-in-the-box.

I hunt the newspaper as if it is a mouse. I have never met a mouse, but I see them in my dreams, eating cheese. I think there is one in the house. Until I find it, I will chase paper balls.

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 This morning I saw a squirrel. Peggy Sue, the fat cat from next door, was chasing it. The squirrel was too quick for Peggy Sue, who was too fat to catch it.

 
Here I am, resting. Every night I chase the little ball of tinfoil round the floor. Then I climb the rope tower and chase the ball. I play fetch with a little piece of rolled up newspaper. I sit on the shoulders of the Others when they eat. It is hard work, but fun.

 
The stupid cat next door, Peggy Sue, stares at me through the glass. She looks sad, maybe because she is fat. She stays outside the door for ages. I watch her from the table. I am higher up than her, which means that I win.

The Others look after me very well. Before they put these newspapers in my litter tray, they stare at them for hours. This makes them very sad. Then they put them in my box. The Guardian is my favourite. It is very absorbent. I don't like the columnists much, though.

There is another cat inside this window. It is a curious cat, and quite handsome. It is watching me.

So I finally got out into the garden. I've been trying to get out for days, because the girl cat next door, who seems to be called Peggy-Sue, and her scratchy friend, have been watching me eat my gruts through the glass door, and when I try to fight them I bounce off the glass and look stupid. Anyway, the Others had some guests round, so when they were hiding all their stuff to make it look as if they had tidied up, I nipped out the back. It's very green. There are dead roses and lavender and a birch tree dying in a little pot. There is a bench made out of a tree.

I'm not sure about this camera. I think it makes me look weird sometimes. And there's a little kitten inside it, which is really distracting. It stares at me, and when I try to scare it away it attacks.

It's really great how messy the Others are. There are boxes everywhere, and shoes, and newspapers, and black bags full of clothes. One of the boxes has a hole in the side, and I can use it like a house. These are my favourite shoes. They are Converse All-Stars. No matter how many times I kill the laces, they keep on wriggling.

Someone is following me. At night, when the Others watch television and drink beer and blow wind from their trousers that smells like yesterday's cheese, the shadows creep around me on the floor. I would catch them, if it wasn't for the black cat who sneaks around behind me. He is very fast. No matter how fast I spin round, he is gone, and I end up chasing my tail.

My name is Hank “Pussyface” Carella Jr. I am a kitten. I used to live in Fulham, but I was recently catnapped, and I now live in Upper Holloway. The new house is OK. It is messy, and has a glass conservatory at the back. The cat from next door comes and looks at me through the glass. It is a fat girl cat with a brushy tail. It looks sad. There is a thin cat too, and a tall fox. I think it will be OK here. They have Sky TV, and the ticker on the weather channel drives me nuts.