The carnage that is cats and the countryside
Ok so there I was having a wonderful wee fantasy about my chosen one, which included but was not limited to: a party, gazing at the stars, sharing a taxi cab, poetry, sex and showers when I was rudely interrupted by the sound of squeaking. This is not an uncommon practice in my house, living with 5 felines as I do, however the squeaking was being made not by the furry felines from hell but from the tiniest wee mouse I've ever seen. Ok so I know you're all thinking awful horrible cats that go kill defenceless wee mices, but unfortunately it gets worse as they've actually killed 4 this morning. They obviously found a nest with wee babies in and yes I do hate it but have to accept (that despite all my efforts) that they are killing machines when it comes to rodents and they are doing what comes naturally, but when they synchronise their efforts so that you have stereo squeaking its really all a bit galling.
Ah the joys of living in the countryside...
Please don't report me to the RSPCA, I like my membership card and I'm sure they like my donations, however feel free to report the cats as they're little buggers!
7 comments:
I live in the city, and yet I still get woken up every morning by very loud birdsong and often find it difficult to get to sleep due to the very loud mewling of the foxes.
"which included but was not limited to: a party, gazing at the stars, sharing a taxi cab, poetry, sex and showers"
You missed out the strawberries. :)
Didn't have strawberries as it was set in late September time (I'm nothing but thorough in my fantasies)
I'm impressed you take the seasonal conditions into consideration in your fantasies Jools. I hope you wrapped up warm for the star-gazing though. September can get cold. :)
I think that was the main point, we (me and fantasy man, not Billy - sorry Bills!) had to huddle together on some damp grass whilst gazing into the sky and then got a lovely cab ride home to my swinging spinster's pad in London...rest of the fantasy will not be appearing here as I fear for any children who may be reading (probably come via the snail wall of death post)
Sitting on damp grass? That's not very good for you (if my mother is to be believed) I hope you had a fetching tartan blanket to sit on.
Sorry, I'll stop mocking your fantasy now...
Nope, no blanket he had to look after me in his big arms, plus we didn't stay there long (if you know what I mean...fnaaar)
Killing machines, yes. It's one of the reasons i dislike them, although there are other reasons that are more annoying - like pooing in my garden.
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