“Sun’s been up for ten minutes. Where you bin?”
No time to fiddle with the focus, because there was the Breakfast Club, lined up and waiting.
Now I think of it, I don’t remember even picking the camera up. I suppose it’s become automatic when I go outside.
“When you’ve quite finished with them, perhaps you might consider our needs?”
These little ruffians have been very picky lately, leaving far too much of their breakfast, so I suggested we go to half rations.
“Mini meals”, Grant calls them.
Maybe cats don’t eat as much in the warmer weather.
Or maybe they are just awkward.
There’s no figuring a feline out.
If you think you have, the cat in question will promptly turn 180 and do something totally different.
Our boy Toby, when he’s done rejecting breakfast offers, takes himself downstairs and back to the “engine room”.
The sound he then produces is something of a cross between a mournful foghorn and the daily call to prayer.
This morning, after hearing about half rations, it was particularly anguished.
Toby isn’t the only cat we’ve had that does this.
Some of the others occasionally emit pitiful moans but Toby always does it down in the basement, as if he has a wailing wall down there .
The basement of my previous house must have had one too. Something about being under ground?
Are they channeling? I dunno.
A thin pane of glass separates us from total chaos.
“Oh Hai! Can you come out and play?”
“We’re going now children!”
There’s always one who doesn’t listen.
Last night I heard scrabbling at the door and when I went to look a baby groundhog was having a face-off with Willow. They puff up just like cats.
We discovered this two summers ago when a “hoglet” encountered a young bobcat beneath the kitchen window. The bobcat backed off and went on its way.
Willow raised an eyebrow “Really?” she said.
“It is still our house, isn’t it?”
Sometimes, we begin to wonder.
They lie around on the furniture, gaze at us through the windows and eat the flowers…
We decided it was safer to leave the barrow on its side. We wouldn’t want someone getting squashed.
Recently the Thrasher returned to sit on it and take a dust bath on the driveway.
It’s not always this harmonious. Mum quite often thumps one of the babies and takes their carrot.
Though when a new male turned up yesterday, she didn’t chase him off.
“Chase me? I hope she’ll chase me!”
Well, we’re done with that for this year!
He decided to take his meal lying down
And single-handed, like a lolly.
A second raccoon mother arrived with just 3 kits.
No less demanding.
And no less cute.
Now I must really go and refresh the water bowls on this toasty afternoon. 88F/30C and climbing.
“We heard you’ve got air-conditioning.”
“Our coats make us feel a bit hot, you know?”