Goodbye, Mr Slug

She's hot and tired and grumpy. I'm still waiting for my ripped paw to be repaired. The big scary slug that was living quietly under the window box isn't living there any more.

We do have some nice fresh plants in the window boxes. A lovely mixture of herby things and flowery things and a bit that will hopefully be lettuce. And everything else is covered in copper tape just in case Mr Slug didn't get the message.

Who knows. Maybe he enjoyed the surprise flying lesson.

He was lucky. Groochy Girl has been in a right sour mood this week. The sky was blue. The sun was shining. She was on holiday. And stomping about with a bad attitude. I was sure Slug Boy was a total goner when he popped up and waggled his waggly bits. He got away with a sudden introduction to extreme sport. He looked like the kind of slug that would have enjoyed it.

Several little and biggish spiders were carefully rehomed because spiders are Our Friends.

Don't know why Madame's in such a strop. I could ask but I have my own problems. Have I mentioned my ripped paw pad and how I've been waiting for weeks to have it repaired? I'm the injured, neglected party but she's one with her own storm cloud.

Oh. Apparently she did have a nice day today. Although it wasn't the nice day she went out to have.

She was supposed to going out to have a lovely country walk but thanks to a bit of train chaos she ended up going over Queen's Park but it rained and no stale bread to feed to the ducks so off to the Southside branch of Tchai-Ovna for destressing with baklava, a pot of White Monkey tea and a good book.

I wonder if they would like a resident bear?