CAT: One Hell of a nice animal, frequently mistaken for a meatloaf.
B. Kliban (1935-1990)
I’d take issue with the word ‘nice’, to be honest. This meatloaf lives next door to us, in theory, but spends far more of her time than I’m happy about hunting birds and mice in our garden. She’s aware of my feelings on the subject, which is why she looked edgy when I came back from a walk around the village this afternoon, and found her staking out the pyracantha in the front garden whose berries are currently attracting the the winter thrushes. I got one photo out of the encounter before she lost her nerve and fled – which I think counts as a 2:0 win to me.
You’ll have noticed, I’m sure, that the flower bed in the background is pretty messy. I wish to place it on record here that this is a deliberate strategy to maximise the survival chances of invertebrates through the winter, and has nothing at all to do with me being lazy and slapdash, and hating gardening.
