Paws

I like the idea of cats.


The idea of cats is something mysterious and sophisticated. Warm fur. The twitch of a tail. A contented purr. Dark eyes, shining in moon light.


The reality is more likely to be sulky and a bit smelly with claws. They will try to bite your head off. Or nibble your toes. Or shred you. Everything is a potential meal or a bed.

Real cats scare me. But don't get me started on dogs. Grrrrrr.

Be Your Own Pet

... best band name EVER. Don't know about the noise they make but the name ... good stuff.

Even more exciting news. Window Box Squirrel is back! She says it's probably some other squirrel but she's just sore about the big hole he's dug. I think I'd know my squirrel. Actually it's not that big a hole and it's not as if there's anything out there. Nothing growing. Even the windmills are looking a bit tatty. I think Mr Squirrel's interesting and innovative landscaping technique is a valid comment on the theme of doom and desolation right outside my window.

And, no, she's not allowed a creme egg.