Cat and mouse

Ploggers, apologies for my absence.  It has been a busy few weeks, and looks set fair to continue.  However, now, right now, I intend to update you with the very latest.  Draw close.

It has been a mixed week for Monty Cat.  Last Sunday morning TheBloke (TM) and I were up bright and early, expecting guests for a lunchtime braai.  There was tidying to be done, and cleaning.  You know, the usual hedonism.

TheBloke (TM) called me to the garden.  "Look at this!" he said, brandishing something icky-looking.  It was a dead mouse.  TheBloke (TM) was holding it by its tail.

"Sweetie, we have plenty of food inside if you're hungry," I said.

Monty Cat had made his first kill.  (I am exempting the time he accidentally stood on a spider.)

He hadn't eaten the mouse, but had left it as a present for us.  Either that, or another cat had killed it, and Monty Cat had stolen it and put it outside our door to make us think he was well hard.  TheBloke (TM) explained to me how important it was to Monty Cat's self-esteem for us to thank him for the gift.  I left that to him.  Monty Cat strutted around, proudly.

The braai was lovely, and it was great to catch up with so many friends.  It was also amusing to watch the conflict on Monty Cat's little cat face.  Monty Cat is a big lover of barbecues in all shapes and forms, because it normally means there is some chicken skin heading his way pretty quickly.  However, Monty Cat has one nemesis: children.  He is terrified of them.  And our braai was attended by the very cute and engaging Esmee, who was just the right height to toddle towards him, shouting, "CAT!"  Monty Cat made himself scarce.

Our friends left at about 6 p.m., an hour or so before Monty Cat's dinner.  At his dinner time there was no sign of the Monster.  This was odd.  Monty has never knowingly missed dinner before.  We gave him an hour.  Then we went outside and called him.  We banged his dishes.  At 10 p.m., TheBloke (TM) walked up and down the road to check he hadn't been squashed.  No Monty Cat.

We didn't sleep well, worried about the furry fluffster.  When we woke, he still hadn't come home.  His biscuits sat forlornly in his dish.

I knocked on the neighbour's door at 8 a.m. (clearly waking the whole household) to ask them to check their shed.  No joy.

And then TheBloke (TM) on his way out of the house heard a pitiful mewing.  "Mew.  Mew.  Mew."  It was coming from next door but one's garage.  TheBloke (TM) knocked at their door, and they shortly let out a very dusty, very hungry, very clingy Monty Cat.  He was pleased to see us.  We were pleased to have him back.

Two days later, when I wasn't feeding him quickly enough, the fucker bit my ankle.

Anyone want a cat?

It has been a mixed week for Monty Cat.