The Wally’s Winter Wonderland

It had been a couple of months since Batman departed, and winter was upon us. It had gone well below freezing, and snow was on the ground.

The Wally loves the snow. He likes snuffling in the snow. He likes running in the snow. He likes to bury himself in snow, and he likes to sit outside when it is snowing. There is very little he does not like about snow.

The Wally’s cocaine addiction was becoming a problem

I, on the other hand, being a little black cat, are somewhat non-plussed about the whole thing. Snow is like the wet, but it is a thing you can see. It is cold, it sticks to you, and sometimes it lands on your nose and gives you a fright. I decided that I was far better to sit upon my little tree stand where I could watch the world go by, and sing really bad Christmas Carols to unsuspecting passersby.

Numps could spot a christmas treat being nibbled on from 100 paces
‘Tis the season to give me bacon, Tra-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la

The Wally and the hooman decided to go for one of their meanders. They asked me to come with them, but what with the snow I declined, choosing instead to go in the kitchen and see if hooman had accidentally left any snacks out for me to steal from.

The snow had been the night before, and a covering of white sat on the ground, whilst the sky was still overcast, but it would clear as the morning went on to clear blue skies.

The fields further from the river had a bit more snow on them, so The Wally ran ahead and galavanted around, making sure he was nice and wet

Hooman trudged along behind him in his huge daft boots, and gradually wetter, and wetter clothes. It was pretty easy to see what The Wally is sniffing in the snow. He’ll follow trails, footprints, and what have you, in amongst the bushes, and trees, and although he has yet to ever catch anything even vaguely considered edible, (he caught a stick once, but it put up a hell of a fight), he carries on full of aplomb.

Sometimes The Wally likes to pretend he was in some sort of one dog wolfpack, and he was the Alpha male

So onward The Wally led, heading for the river where he always seemed to think the frogs would be waiting for him. He will undoubtedly attempt to hunt some down along the riverbank, but as they have all buggered off, he will be as disappointed as he is in the summer, when he fails to catch then either.

The Wally knows the way to the river, and heads straight there, although he doesn’t seem aware that the frogs will no longer be sunning themselves on the riverbank

The daft sod, every time, clubs up the small rise and has a good peer at the river in case it has changed. It hasn’t. It is still there, big, wet, and muddy as the winter rains, snows and melts fill it up covering some of the riverside paths.

Woohoo! The river!

In the summer we can walk out across the little-islands to pebble island, but in the winter that would mean you would get wet paws, wet socks, and possibly a wet underside.

Nope, not doing that.

The angry weir monster is clearly having a rough time, as it is even louder than normal

So along the path they meandered, The Wally stopping every few metres to ensure that no critter escaped his fearsome gaze. Hooman would feed him lies every now and then, and send him off on some wild goose chase.

Hooman told The Wally that there are dogfish in the river, and if he listens carefully he should hear them bark

The weather was cheering up at least. Instead of it being a greyscale picture of grim winter gloom, you could see some colours, and the sky was turning into a nice shade of blue, without a cloud to be seen.

Home is over that way

So along the river they traipsed, with the Wally examining, and sniffing everything, but was very reticent to go for a paddle. Not only was the water very cold, but look at the colour of it! It was like a river of mud, or tea. (White, 2 sugars please – hooman)

The Wally began to suspect the dogfish rumour was a pack of lies

Alas, despite the sun being out, it was time to depart, and so with a last glance in the river for anything edible, The Wally darted up the river bank to the fields and the way home.

The Wally spots a ferocious stick-fish floating down the river, that hooman threw on seconds earlier

The Wally, being a quadrapredator has no trouble utilising his claws as crampons. Hooman, however, has nothing of the sort, silly biped. He slips, and slides his way up the slope.

I don’t know how they managed to survive this long.

Quick as a flash, The Wally darts up the rise. Hooman struggles on afterwards slipping and sliding
Clear blue skies, snow, and a dope

Sun really blaring out now, and the snow disappearing quick. The Wally takes the chance to pelt around like a lunatic on some sort of illicit drug. This will end when we get to the house.

Must run because dope…
More running, this time with the banner of his people flapping about from his mouth

Once we got back to the house, all this energy had been depleted, and after a quick feed, and gallons of water, he decided he would stand guard over some cushions.

Enough running, time from snooze in the warm of the house

I, on the other hand, found no snacks, and so just went to sleep somewhere warm. This was normally right next to the fire…

I mostly dreamt of ham, mostly.

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