It’s not easy being a furocious ball of claw filled fury. I am expected to provide for the family by bringing in voles, birds, lizards, crocodiles, and wildebeest, for the communal pot, but no-one ever seems to cook these up, or at least not when I am there. Hooman seems to whisk them away on a shovel and Bastet knows what he does with them. I can only assumes he BBQ’s them up for himself in exchange for various pieces of ham he gives me.
Walks are where I am most at home, (except for the fire, the bed, the sofa, hooman’s lap, and cuddled next to The Wally), and it is there I can stretch my abilities to the max by climbing a tree and staring at things.
It is a lonely existence, if truth be told. I often find myself apart from the others. They do not race ahead, or try to get away from me, but we cats DO need time to sit, and do our staring. If we can’t stare when on a walk, when can we do it? This often means I lag behind due to my sit down protests at being hurried along. The Wally wants to run out in front, I want to sit and admire myself, and the hooman is like piggy in the middle.
Being so alert to my surroundings also means I am the only one who is aware of the dangers on our walks. I am a particularly furocious monster, and I can scare off most lesser beasties as they are easily startled, but they will be back, and in greater numbers. An ambush would be simple in this wilderness, and a platoon of moths or crocodiles could easily grab my companions.
Keeping an eye on my travelling companions is a full time job. Although they do their very best to rush me along, and tut whenever I commit to a full 10 minute sit down protest, I am still watching out. The Wally, although a spec in the distance, is still under my protection, although I doubt he knows it.
You would think The Wally would be an apex predator like myself. He is large, quite muscular, has claws, and sharp teeth, but the only thing he seems able to catch is empty bottles, and sticks. I don’t even think he bothers eating the things he catches. They litter his spot under the bush in the garden, and I have yet to see him devour one.
Sometimes The Wally will try to join me on a sit down protest. It is very difficult for him, as no matter how much he wants to sit with me in silence, his legs want to do something quite different.
On one of my walks, hooman told be about King Arthur and the lady of the lake. He said that a moistened tart clad in shimmering samite would help him out. Well, we don’t have a lake, but we do have a river, and I can only assume this wet woman uses them as some sort of transport infrastructure. Despite my protestations, she has yet to appear.
Hooman said she may give me Excalibur if I am very lucky. I have no idea what this thing is, but it sounds very impressive. I can only assume it is a large hamper of the finest ham.
And so, on we march. Forever vigilant for danger, and ensuring that every tree is climbed, examined for evidence of edibles, and a branch selected with which to stare off at what hooman describes as “bugger all, get down and get a move on!”
Hoomans seem very lax with regards to litter. We came across this bundle of baling string. Even hooman gave a tut when he saw it. Some hoomans have no consideration for their surroundings.
On we march. It is quite funny seeing a hooman traversing the landscape. The Wally, and myself, both are equipped from the factory with a 4xPaw system, which gives us great traction, and nimbleness over tricky terrain. Hooman manages to overcome such obstacles, it seems, by swearing a lot, and clambering up them like a very drunk monkey.It is embarrassing to see.
And so, another patrol in the countryside is complete. All I have to do is cross the swamp of dampness, and I will be home, comfy, and by the fire. Sometimes hooman will take pity on me if I do a bit of meowing, and some leg rubs and carry me over.
Not today though.
Until next time!