This week has been big on leftovers, and I'm afraid I know what that means. I suspect our humans are going on holiday any minute, and Chutney and I will have to go to the cattery.
On Tuesday they tried hard to finish a variety of curries from the weekend; on Wednesday Martin went to London and ate courtesy of British Airways while Annie had another go at the curry; and tonight, Thursday, dinner was a chopped courgette sauteed with tomatoes and garlic, grilled chicory, cous-cous and deep-fried whitebait. While each of those ingredients has its charms - particularly the whitebait - the combination is a bit of a give-away. They're off travelling, the fridge is being prepared for defrosting, and we're away to the slammer tomorrow. I'd put money on it, if I was a gambling cat.
Still, a stay in cat chokey isn't all bad. A nice man who looks like Spike Milligan gives us our medicine, well-spoken teenage girls clean out our cells, and we meet some other cats, some of whom are even older than us.
But we wouldn't want to die in there without saying goodbye to Annie and Martin. When they drop us off, we don't know whether it's going to be a weekend, a month, or forever. Maybe this time they'll send us a postcard.
1 comment:
Hi Dingo! I enjoy your blog, and check frequently, and am thinking that your absence of posts lately means that you ARE in the cat pokey!
I hope things are good for you and your sister, and that you're having a lovely time at the cattery. I am looking forward to hearing all about your adventures there when you're back.
All the best!
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