An End to Wind and Spray!

It's been a week which began with an angry wind sucking limbs from trees and strewing the land of our feline domain with nature's oddments. (Yes, the wind sucks!-Millhouse and I have given the principal much thought. Humans have got it wrong as usual.) Anyway, because of such typical British weather, we've spent an inordinate amount of time indoors in hazy puss-type contemplation or generally flopping around being a bit naughty.
The wet weather drives Millhouse to restlessness, and in the mornings he often stalks me around the furniture, like a secret agent. He likes a spot of rough and tumble. Well, I'm a dignified old tom preferring to be left to my own daydreams so I have developed sophisticated avoidance techniques which leave Millhouse as puzzled as if I've slipped into the ether. After staring at Mr Human with my head to one side pathetically prompting the doling out of breakfast, I humour Millhouse for ten minutes with the odd paw swipe, head lock and ear bite. Then, while he plans his next strike, I pad quietly off to the staircase which, being dark and shadowy at that time of the morning, is a fine hiding place.
When Mrs Human stumbles into the kitchen, it's my cue to thunder up the stairs and drum on the young human's bedroom door. I can make an impressive thrumming on the door to the extent that Mrs Human comes up and lets me into young Human's room where I settle down in the generally steamy rumpled bedding of the lad. I do have to endure the three different alarms which young Human has set to wake him, but with that trauma over, this room becomes all my own for the rest of the day. Millhouse has no idea where I've disappeared to!
Millhouse has his usefulness however, because this week the mystery sprayer finally got his come-uppance. Around lunchtime one day, Millhouse and I happened to be in the kitchen. We had hoped for a meal, but all the humans were out at work. (Well, that's what they tell us. We reckon they're actually just around the corner in the lane, sitting in their cars pretending to do something important.)
There was an almost imperceptible click of the flatcap and a nervous beige coloured interloper crept into the kitchen. He was just about to lick our bowls clean, which we never ever would do, when Millhouse sprang from the worktop in a flurry of catty, hissy spittiness and burst after the hurriedly retreating mog. He head-butted the flatcap so hard it came clean off it's hinges and landed halfway across the patio! I was filled with smug admiration for Millhouse who persued his quarry over the garden fence and away into distant foreign catlands. Attaboy, Millhouse! He won't be back in a hurry I'm sure!
Mr Human had been home sometime before he realised the cold draught in the kitchen was the result of the six inch square hole in the back door! Luckily, it was repairable otherwise we'd have been in the cathouse with the Humans again!

Herky