Waiting for good-oh

"What are all these boxes doing in the house?" we asked Rachel.

"We're moving." she said. "We're going to have a lovely new house, and everything will come with us in those boxes."

"Can we bring the mice?" Lottie asked.

Not the real ones, apparently. Just toys.

And then Rachel said "You shall have a garden, Millie, and trees. It's going to be good!"

"Good-oh", I said. She gave me that look. She doesn't like it when I'm sarky. "When are we moving with everything and all those boxes?" Rachel said she didn't know; we would have to wait.

So I waited.

And waited.

I can't see any movement.

Waiting is boring.

Maybe she was teasing us.

How do you like your eggs?

I'll bring you one, to cook just as you like it.

I'll carry it carefully in my mouth, and drop it just where you can see it. Maybe at the back door, maybe on the kitchen floor.

You need to be quick to spot it though, because Hamish will run off with it, given half a chance, and will growl if you ask for it back.

He likes his eggs raw. So uncivilised.

Intrepid, me!

This is our look out point. It's very high up.

I used to be frightened up there. Not any more though!

See that ledge, on the far side of the bay window? And the ledge next to it? And the neighbour's bay window? They're spaced out further apart than they look.

If you hop over them, and lie low on top of the neighbour's bay, Rachel might not spot you when she gathers everyone inside for the night. Trouble is, she then shuts the sash window, and you can't get back in when you've finished hiding in the dark.....

Then she gets up at 2.15 a.m. because she can't sleep, and is worried about why you aren't in your usual bed, and goes looking for you.

And she spots your ears sticking up above the parapet of the neighbour's bay window, so she leaves the sash window open, and you can come in again.

But not at once, of course. After all, you are a cat. It wouldn't do to develop obedience. No, you must wait till Rachel has gone back to bed, and come in just when you feel like it. Meantime, you have a wonderful view of fat Hattie wandering about in the street below, because she won't come in either when Suzy calls her, and you can hear a nasty cat fight going on somewhere, but you are safe, and very high up.

But Rachel still can't sleep, and at 4.30 in the morning she comes back down and finds you in your radiator cradle-bed, and what does she do? Scold you and call you a wicked stop-out? Not at all. She strokes you and tells you that you are such a good cat, and so brave to jump across those gaps, especially with your fuller figure. And you purr loudly, because you know it's true.

Tonight she will make sure that the window is closed early, before it gets dark and exciting outside. She says  night time security measures are being Stepped Up.

Black panther

If you sit at the top of the stairs long enough, someone is sure to come up.

Millie's on her way. See the blur?

Silly thing, she thinks she can outrun me.

Flare the ears....

....and pounce.

Rachel was too slow to catch the lightning speed at which I can pounce. Stupid woman. You'd have been impressed.

Summer

Rachel says it's nice weather for ducks.

I'd rather like a duck, but there don't seem to be any round here......

Here, ducky ducky!

Ambition

I have a fine voice. I think I might join a band.

One that's on my wavelength.

At the watering hole

It's been quite warm outside, and we've been in the back yard a lot.

Mostly we watch bees and other flying things that aren't nice to eat.

Or we sit on the bench. Like little old men, Rachel says.

She thought we'd like something else to do. So she brought us an old enamel bowl and filled it with water. Then she watched from the kitchen window.

Splish!

Splat!

Ladylike sips.

Thank you, Rachel. Jungle animals need a watering place.

Acting weird

Not sure what's the matter with Rachel these days.

Firstly, she went off terribly early yesterday.

She stayed away all day, right up until it got dark. Auntie Sandra had to visit us.

Rachel locked the cat flap before she left. She said we weren't allowed out because we had stayed out all the night before, and wouldn't come in when she called us, even at four o'clock in the morning. We don't mind; we need to catch up on our sleep after a night out on the yard walls.

Not Lottie; she's never disobedient, and she likes to sleep on Rachel's bed at night, so she came in when she was called. We didn't; we peeped over the yard wall at Rachel in her nightie in the yard, and ran away a little bit. She said we were villains, and then she went back to bed until 5.30, when she had to get up for her day away.

The dog never goes out on the yard walls so she wasn't told off either. Rachel said that Millie was a bad example to us boys.

Today Rachel read this to us: "The enclosed rear garden measures approximately 140’ and is predominantly laid to lawn with well established flower and shrub borders to either side and at the bottom of the garden there is a river. Adjacent to the property there is a large patio with further patio to the left hand side, raised beds and well established trees namely; magnolia, apple and a copper beech tree."


She told us all that we were going to have a new house, and that we would all be very happy there. "What for?" we asked. "We've got a house, and it hasn't worn out yet."


But she just smiled, and said "Wait and see...."

Free at last, free at last!

Those blasted baby thrushes took forever to get out of bed and flap their little crunchy wings.

But once they'd gone, poor old Olive, the cat in whose shrubs they were lazing and loafing about all this time, was allowed out again, and so was I. The cat flap was unlocked.

We are On Parole, apparently.

I didn't quite know what to do with myself at first. Leaving prison can be disorientating.

Then I remembered: the shed...

the wall...

the back lane...

But I kept coming home again, because Rachel mustn't start worrying about what I'm up to. I come indoors from time to time and show her: "Look! No mousies! No birds! Definitely no young thrushes!"

Rachel says I'm overdoing it, and that she doesn't trust me as far as she could throw me. What an unpleasant expression, I told her, for a self-professed cat lover. She said she doesn't think she's ever thrown a cat, but I wouldn't put it past her.

The boys felt it was safe to go out again too.  Before my parole, they were scared to go out without me.

Although Hamish doesn't like to stay outside for too long. He quite liked being in prison. I think it was the dinners, the television, the toy mice that appealed to him... And he's hardly adventurous. Not like me at all.