Paddy-paw print

The Messrs P are renowned for getting in the way when I'm trying to do stuff. Mr Pandammonium took today off work, so I sent him out into the world this afternoon to get him out from under my feet. If only Mr Perkins was so easy to chase away.

Mr Perkins was sound asleep on his cushion by the radiator until he wasn't. He came in the kitchen to see what I was up to, and to see if I'd let him into his daddy's den. I told him his daddy wasn't in there, but of course, no one ever believes me. I opened the door, and he ran in, only to stop short and look back at me with the most forlorn of faces when he saw no one was there.

Mr Perkins came into the kitchen with me to see what I was doing. I was making pastry things for Christmas. When I was little, I used to make sausage rolls, mince pies and jam tarts for Christmas. At first, I'd help my mam with them, then I'd do it all myself. I don't know whether such baked goods (see extra; a little too much blackcurrant jam, perhaps) will keep till Christmas with a Mr Pandammonium around, but we'll see.

I picked Mr Perkins up, showed him the pastry left over from the sausage rolls, which I'd use up for the jam tarts. I put him down, then turned back to washing the tin I'd baked the mince pies in so I'd have something to bake the tarts in.

There was a thud.

Mr Perkins was up on the side, his paws in my pastry.