MONTY....A neighbour's white cat is a frequent visitor to the bungalow and his or hers antics are becoming essential entertainment.
Only the other day he/she was balancing on my fence, the fence which saves me from close contact with my constantly yammering constantly hammering neighbours, anyway Whitey as I shall call him from now on, was tiptoeing along when my sudden frantic waving almost made the beast fall off. He didn't of course, instead choosing to leap to the grass and, in the ensuing movement, manage to shake rattle and roll several bird feeders. I chose not to get angry...
A few seconds passed and before I could say haddock, Whitey was yelling at the conservatory door. Ok nothing wrong with that, but his/her pawing at the glass triggered something violent in laid back Monty...
As Whitey craned his neck to nose in, fat Mont stood on his back legs making a croaking noise. They were eye to eye. He was not amused neither was he in love. He just didn't like another fine feline muscling in on his mum. She is, after all, a sucker for furry balls. Just give her a cat to hold and the whole world could stop turning and she wouldn't notice.
It's called love.
Being a soother of all souls though (human and beast) I reacted to the pawing puss by gooey gooeying through the dusty windows and, being simple, the intruder seemed satisfied with that.
Monty however didn't let up. There was no way that he was going to allow another creature into my affections so he screeched and hissed generally making a terrific hoo hah out of the simple situation. A simple situation, which in a faintly sad way, made me realize how essential the giving of affection is, even to double jointed animals who can kiss their own backsides...
As I crouched down looking deep into the blue eyes of Whitey something came out in me. And the something was a sensational urge to stroke him and offer up a sardine. But sense got the better of me and so I bid the interloper farewell and fussed over miserable Monty.
This wasn't the first time Whitey and I have had a clandestine meeting, he's often over at night about nineish and that's fine because his rolling on the path is beneficial to both him and me especially when Mr Horsehound is on lates. The small smooth white cat with black splodges over his ears is such a comfort. There have been times when clad only in my dressing gown I've bent over by the Rosemary bush telling him how naughty he is and how I can't stay out here on account of my arthritis.
His indifference to my joint trouble makes not a jot of difference it's almost as if he doesn't understand what I'm saying.
But I love making an idiot out of myself. And love does tend to make us go down on the gravel. I won't however let him in, either through the front door or back. Because once in always in...
And Monty would go mental. And Monty is my true love. Picked out from over fifty abandoned London cats I brought him home on the train. He costs not a lot to feed and in return I receive ripped furniture and sliced veins.
I love cats.
Always have ever since I was handed a bundle of multicoloured moggy at about the age of 6/7. We were living in a terrible damp flat and dad had found this small scared cat in the road, bedraggled and frail. So being young and foolish we shared our beds and food with him and christened him Fluffy.
Dear Fluffy, being a streetwise cat it was impossible to keep him in so we gave him his freedom but no key. His only means of reaching the street was to leap from the window which was a long way up. Nine times out of ten he did it, the tenth time he didn't and poor Fluffy died. He was a cute cat probably riddled with fleas and diseases but we took pity on him and fed him till he fell. He always slept on my bed and enjoyed rice pudding and Top Cat (now de-funct). So yes cats are in my blood and on my pavement!
As I type Monty is under the table. I love you Monty, you stroppy old thing.
Being rustled up tonight:
Toad-in-the-Hole made with a tarted up sage and onion batter
Neapolitan Ice Cream and Gorgeous Tiffin Fingers. The Tiffin has been a revelation. Love it!
Being intermittently viewed due to running a taxi business...Germany v. Spain. Hope the Sausage suckers beat the Castanet bangers.
Oh God....
