The naughtiest cat in the world

A lot of training goes on in the hpx household, it's just I'm not sure who's training who.

Last night we managed the bedtime ritual ok, me in bed and Benedict on the bed on the other side. But it went to custard in the small hours when Benedict wanted a different arrangement.

The different arrangement is literally in my face and doesn't work for me. Last night I rolled over so I could at least breathe. But that didn't work for the little Pope, who immediately sprung over to rejoin himself to my face and head.

I gently picked him up and shifted him back to the other side of the bed. There was a brief calm before he launched himself at my head and nipped it, not hard, but enough to give a clear message. My message was just as clear, I pushed him off the bed.

Thus ensued the fury of the small stripey one. He bashed ping pong balls around the bath, shredded his cat tunnel in the hall way, scratched the carpet, and goodness knows what else he was up to. Remarkably I managed to fall asleep again.

When I woke this morning the little Pope was in the bed, inches away from me, lying on his side facing me, his head on the pillow. He woke wearing the smug and satisfied look of one who'd won by guile, determination and outwitting one much bigger than him.

The look changed as I started to get up and disturbed his equilibrium. He wasn't moving so I levered myself over him and out of the bed. He turned his head to look at me. I blipped him before he remembered he was starving, and needed to be out of the bed wailing his hardship.

Like I say, I'm not sure who is training who, but I'll give it another go tonight.