At last, some more agreeable weather! I was beginning to lose my interest in going outside, but this week we've had some sunny spells which were encouraging enough for a brief scamper across the lawn in a mock attack of Lord and Lady Wood-pigeon. They relentlessly parade back and forth across the garden in their formal grey suits with stiff white collars and, I think, they've a mind for a bit of 'ow's yer father' at the moment. That is judging by the curious head jerking, flapping and bouncing about that's going on. If they could only see themselves, they'd be quite ashamed! I've seen hefnits behaving more elegantly!
In fact, all the birdies are very busy prodding, poking and hopping in and out of the hedge, swooping over the lawn and, well, generally inviting the swipe of a flying paw if they're not watchful. But, I've become more more of a twitcher than a catcher in my old age, keeping a detailed register of all the dick birds I see just for posterity. Apart from sparrow and starling colonies, we've got blue tits, great tits, coal tits, long tailed tits, greenfinches, goldfinches, hedge sparrows, black birds, a green wood-pecker, a lesser spotted woodpecker and, something I haven't seen here before, a thrush! When they whizz past me, I'm still enthusiastic enough to thrust my whiskers forward with an "oooh!" gasp, but me old limbs don't swing into action like they used to. Luckily for them. Millhouse still has his younger instincts intact, but success has eluded him so far much to Mr.'s satisfaction.
It's not generally well known, but I spend quite a lot of time in the fourth dimension, being very proficient at silently disappearing in mere fractions of a second. One instant, crouched in the 'washing back legs' posture, I'm calmly sorting out my nether bits; the next, no sight, nor sound anywhere. Just the weary buzz of a zig-zagging fly. Humans are mystified.
It's brilliant! While Stephen Hawking's been pondering the question of parallel universes for decades, we puss-cats have known all about it since the days of the great pussus sphinxus. Well, why else would we sit and stare at blank walls for hours if not engulfed in deep, deep complicated thoughts?
Indeed, it has been noted that, when fast asleep, I look not unlike Stephen Hawking. For when fully slumber bound, a few teeth creep into view in the shadows of my chutchy bits...you know, the fuzzy upper lip fromwhence all one's whiskers sprout, and I take on that characteristic distant expression. Perhaps I could make use of an old answerphone and get on the lecture circuit!
The regular supply of sustenance is all that binds us to this earthly world of human beans. This Sunday morning, they were so late in rising that I had to sit on the bonnet of Mr.'s tin wheelie box and stare in at the bedroom window to see when breakfast might be forthcoming. It was fully two hours later than normal that he peeped around the curtain and met my impatient indeed, indignant and accusing look. Breakfast was dolloped tout suite!
You may picture me eating my breakies but look again.........Ive disappear..e...d!
Herky
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