“MAAAOOOWWAAAOOOWWW” said Lily.
“Another excuse for delaying our walk?”
After breakfast, Lily takes herself down to the “engine room” where she practices her oratory skills until Grant announces walk time.
But lately, for various reasons this has been disrupted.
“The car got eaten by mice?” said Lily, incredulous.
“Mice can’t eat cars!”
“Not the whole thing, Lily, just the vital bits.”
“Humphf. A likely story!”
“The Missus’ computer died?”
“Then why it still here? When dead, you get buried.”
“Don’t give me ideas, Lily. It may happen.”
The day got off to a reasonable start. We were in the kitchen going through the usual motions.
As Grant dished out cat breakfast into their 11 little bowls, I stood gazing out the window, enjoying a rather delicious piece of peach.
Pigeon A Squadron approached and conducted their fly-by, swooped over the field, turned and came back for a second pass.
Out, over the cornfield and back they came, lower this time and yet, perhaps someone messed up their pre-landing checks because they did an overshoot.
It was very quiet out there, decidedly not normal, so I scanned the trees and sure enough:
Looking for a tasty breakfast.
Obviously, he had been spotted and my little friends were keeping a low profile.
The pigeons dropped a feather with a note to say they’d give breakfast a miss today as they could see we had a visitor, but please cater for them as usual tomorrow.
Well, of course!
Perhaps I should have called out to the hawk and told him where he could get himself a few fresh mice, but you are not supposed to interfere with Nature.
Just the other day, I came upon a murder scene , right beneath my window. I’ve seen it happen, one minute a little dove was shuffling along doing dove things, then a dark flash, WHOOSH! All that was left were a few feathers drifting down.
Hawks must eat, so I try not to mind.
We had our own breakfast and as I was washing up, Grant called me to “Come quick!”
“It’s in the driveway. It’s having a face-off with a squirrel”
Hours later he asked me why there was a dishtowel and knives on my desk.
“When you say ‘come quick’, I do.”
Owing to the fact that the driveway is full of grass and the squirrel mostly concealed by a large plant:
There’s just so much you can do.
(Lately I find myself saying that a lot. I’m horribly afraid it’s just another excuse.)
Squirrel blinked and ran under a hedge.
“Where’s he gone?”
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
“Damn! Did you just throw something at me?”
“You did you little sod!”
“Wait till I get my beak on you!”
The hawk went back up the tree to recover his dignity.
“Something’s crawling on me, I know it!”
“Eww! Get off me!”
“Well! I didn’t know hunting for breakfast could be so bothersome!”
The hawk recovered his trim and flew away.
“Ha ha! He’ll not get me!”
“I sent my pet flea to make him itch!”
“You better watch yourself, Jim Jim. That hawk has big claws and a bigger beak!”
“Yes, missus. Got a nut?”
“So now we have to wait for hawks to clear off?”
“I suppose tomorrow there will be another excuse!”
“Well, as a matter of fact, Lily….”