His life is doomed, I tell you. Doomed.

[desperance]

Poor Barry. No sooner did I finally - at last! After months! - rediscover the laser pen toy and give him an Evil Red Dot to pursue, than the batteries died. Right then, right there.

And no sooner - after snuffling all across the floor in search of vanished dot, and looking up at me with you would not believe what pain and disappointment in his eyes - had he invented a new game with a wine-cork, than bloody Mac came and took it away from him and played his game all up and down the house.

Poor Baz. It's a cat's life, he tells you.

And now his tea is late.