Insurrection in the house as Marley puts his paw down and demands parity with my fame. If the dog has a blog, he has to have an outlet for his exploits, he says. Mum said she wouldn’t upset me by letting him have a blog, which takes so much more skill (tee hee), he could have his own page on Facebook. I’m going to have to monitor this carefully, there’s no telling what he might say. He’s already very adept at keyboard skills.
I have been forced, under threat of no bedtime biscuits, into publishing this pictorial eulogy to the cats. I was blissfully unaware of the significance of this Saturday which began with an invigorating swim on our beach followed by a sunny afternoon in the yard with my people and a delicious dinner with a serving of lamb and vegetables in my kibble.
Then, I”m told, a blog post is absolutely necessary otherwise the cats will be offended. OFFENDED? We’ve hardly seen them. Marley has been out all day (hunting, I expect) and Cleo did her usual round of catcalls then disappeared to sleep on the spare bed.
International Cat Day, I ask you; when is it International Dog Day?
Now we have a different rodent in the house as we pet sit the Irish cousins’ hamster, Cheeks, while they are on holiday.
Cheeks by name, cheeky by nature says my mum after he bit her while she was hand feeding him. She yelped and there was a LOT of blood. She said if he did it again he would be cat food. What, I don’t get a look in? Not that he would be a big meal but he would make a tasty snack.
He came with a shiny green ball which he can wander around in. That gets the cats’ interest, I tell you, as he bumbles from one room to the other. My mum had to chase him cos he was heading for the open front door.
I’m used to him so I ignore his exploring but the cats, especially Cleo, are fascinated. Cleo definitely fancies a snack!
More wildlife drama when a young herring gull appeared in our yard. We’re used to them sitting on the chimney pots, flying over the house and squawking 24 hours a day but we have never had one strutting about our yard. Strut may be a bit of an exaggeration because it was a scared baby which must have taken a leap from a rooftop nest nearby and been unable to summon the courage or momentum to fly out.
I got a shock, I tell you, big bird like that. Even though it was a youngster, still with its brown feathers, it was bigger than a pigeon and its parents were screeching overhead so straight away I yelped for my mum.
She’s clever, my mum, knew exactly what to do. It tried to hide behind plant pots but she cornered it, threw a teatowel over it and lifted it onto the summerhouse roof where it might be less scared and manage to fly. It spent an hour or so mooching around the roof before the whole family disappeared, presumably to safety.
You would never have know what had happened if it weren’t for loads of poop on the flagstones…
Such an exciting day. First we went to the playing fields and I showed my ball chasing and catching skills then, unexpected treat, the lead comes out again and I’m taken out by my mum for coffee with friends.
I wasn’t allowed in the cafe but I got lots of fuss, especially from one of my mum’s pals who is a big fan of mine, and passers-by. Mum and her friends scoffed scones, cakes and brownies while I had to make do with a paltry bowl of water. I was allowed one tiny taste of brownie which hardly touched the sides and, though I made an impassioned plea for more by whining loudly, it was all gone.
I made a big effort to walk nicely on the lead on the way back cos I know that, if I don’t pull, I may get taken out again for coffee. Though I really think I deserve more brownie for my efforts.
LOL, not me, Marley the cat! I’ve better things to do, like recover from my morning run in the hot weather. Mum thought he’d spotted the mouse as he scurried across the room (yep, still got it, traps and cats have failed) but he was simply wanting to watch Maria Sharapova playing at Wimbledon. Not sure whether he was spying the ball or her legs!
Panic and excitement in the house today after Marley brought in a live mouse – and let it go. My mum was not pleased.
She had gone to make some lunch and when she came back she found Marley stalking the sofa, trying to get round the back and generally making a big fuss. He spent an hour pacing back and forth, scrabbling under one end then the other. If he’d asked I could have helped. I am a sniffer dog, after all.
My mum managed to lift the sofa at one end and the mouse scurried out – but the Marls wasn’t quick enough and it scuttled under the bureau. Marley set off in hot pursuit, there were lots of squeals and we thought he had it cornered. She decided to leave them to it and we sat in the yard in the sun for a while.
We came back and Marley is in the middle of the room, nonchalant expression on his face. Had he caught it and taken it outside; could we rest in peace? He toyed with his home made catnip sock (he and Cleo are utterly spoilt; I never get handmade toys) but then had a couple of noses under the sofa and bureau.
Mum lifted it again – no mouse. Marley seems to have lost interest now and gone back outside. But we still aren’t sure whether the house is a mouse-free zone…