Fun with friends

Mak, my rescue greyhound neighbour, and James called to take me to the beach but I’d already been so stayed at home for a restorative nap.  We had great fun when they returned.  I make a fuss of Mak, James makes a fuss of me then I make a fuss of James who is one of the few humans to like being licked.  Mum hates being licked – says it’s not that she doesn’t know where my tongue has been, rather that she knows exactly where it’s been.  Eh?

As soon as they came in Mak made for the kitchen cos there was the remains of last night’s chicken.  Mum chased after him cos he’s so big he can help himself to any goodies on the kitchen bench.  She didn’t let him have any chicken but he scoffed the leftover potatoes roasted in olive oil and rosemary and I had dog biscuits.  Why didn’t I get the savoury spuds, I ask.  Oh, yes, I don’t do veg.

Did I tell you about the frog?

Last week we had a surprise visitor.  Mum was clearing coffee cups out of the dining room when she saw what she thought was a leaf on the tiled floor.  But suddenly it leapt in the air and she realised it was – a FROG!  I spun into action to catch it for her but she unceremoniously shoved me into the kitchen by which time, of course, it had hopped out of sight.  She was frantic me or THE CAT might catch it.  Moi?

I wouldn’t have harmed it, mum, I would have brought it to you so you could put it back outside.  She finally caught up with it – under the wine rack of all spots – and carefully wrapped it in a towel and set it free in the garden.

Then it was all ‘how did it get in, how long was it in, was it the cat, did it come in the back or front?’  Well, I didn’t fetch it in and I don’t see how it could have got in the back otherwise, seeing as we have gates two metres high.  I blame THE CAT, minx that she is.  Caught it, brought it in, didn’t like the taste or something and let it go.  I hoped we might keep it as a pet – pretty olive thing with black spots, not very old.  I could have had a friend…

We are a menagerie

The Irish aunt and sprog are away for a few days so me and my mum have been entrusted with looking after Harry Hamster.  He lives at bootcamp so I know him very well but have no idea how The Cat is going to react to a rodent in the house.  We’d better keep the lid tight on his cage cos I think she’d have him for brekkie if he got out – hamsters are bottom of the food chain for cats.

Harry Hamster samples tomato

He’s getting spoilt of course – baby tomatoes (suppose that’s the right size for something only 12cm long), pecan nuts, carrot sticks.  What I don’t understand is that he stores the food in his cheeks for later.  I’d scoff it all off straight away – well, maybe not tomato or carrots.  I usually leave those if my mum sneaks any into my dinner – vegetables, yuk.

Missed out AGAIN!

While I was away at weekend bootcamp my mum invited my mate, rescue greyhound Mak, and his owners round and I missed out AGAIN!  The humans had risotto and meringues with salted caramel sauce and Mak had treats of cheese.  I like cheese; where’s my share.  Excuse is that he was scared of the fireworks going off in the run-up to bonfire night and had to have a distraction.  If I’d been there I could have distracted him, no problem, and maybe we could have shared the cheese which was a special smoked one my mum brought back from Cheshire. 

In even more of a huff cos THE CAT allowed Mak to get up real close in front of the fire and didn’t utter a single hiss.  She’s awful to me most of the time though I must admit she was okay when I got on the bed with her and mum a few days ago.  I have to rise above my fear and ignore her.

Time to perfect my ‘I see no cats’ expression.