Tiptoe through the…daffodils!

We have sun which means the spring flowers are blooming in our park at last.  I had to do a close inspection, too close according to my mum who was furious when I charged through the bed of daffodils.  I listened, got down real low instead and rubbed my chest and tummy in them.  That was wonderfully cooling on a hot afternoon.  I’m sure Mum was happy with that.

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Bad hair day


Lost* the ball in the park, didn’t I, so a big search was instituted which involved me rustling in the undergrowth, diving into bushes and leaping around a wildflower meadow which is going to seed.   Ended up with hundreds of sticky burrs and seeds in my coat.  Yuk.

Didn’t manage to find the ball, or the Chuck It one I lost in the same place last week.

I had a good brush when we got home but there a still loads to come out.  At least my ears are clear.

  • As we were leaving, having searched everywhere, another walker shouted she’d found it.  In a patch of long grass.  How did I miss that when my breed is renowned for its prowess in this field?  Field, field – who said field?

I wallow in daffodils

IMG_5126There’s a big patch of daffodils in the park just round the corner from our house and though my mum says I haven’t to romp and knock them over they are sooooo cooling after I’ve been running about chasing the ball.

Sometimes we have daffodils in the house and that Marley Cat stuffs his face in them and tries to drink the water from the vase they’re in.  He has no shame – sips from taps, sticks his head in coffee cups and even tries to drink my mum’s gin and tonic.

Stupid, I reckon, when he has his own water bowl and is not shy about slurping from mine.

But then who knows how cats’ brains work.  Not me, for certain.

Marley and the daffs