Den (dewhitton) wrote,

  • Mood:

Streetwalk of death by pointy teeth.

Scruffy has discovered that if the front gate is left open, and no one is looking, he can snuggle down in a sheltered place in the front garden and soak up some afternoon sun. Technically he is being a BADDOG but since no one can see him he thinks he's all right. Plus, he's getting on in years so I'm happy to cut him a little slack. Poor Polly sits at the gate and look watches him and looks miserable because she's having BADDOG thoughts without actually doing anything bad.

This afternoon I was watching the dog in the garden through the loungeroom windows, when a black shape caught my eye. It was the black tomcat who used to walk along the back fence. He was slinking along the path between the house and garden. As he drew level with the windows I tapped on the glass. The cat paused and looked at me.

Something small and covered with scruffy grey fur and sticks exploded from the pansy patch and fell onto the cat, yodelling like a maniac. The cat bounced off the window and landed in a bush. Scruffy followed, hitting the window a little more heavily than the cat before diving into the shrubbery. The bush shook like crazy while there was much yodelling and fitz-rowing, then the cat emerged vertically through the top of the canopy, changed direction without touching anything, and vanished into the neighbour's front yard.

Scruffy scrambled from the garden, covered in leaves and dirt. He shook himself, barked once at the departed cat, and limped into the backyard where he was met by a grovelling Polly.

Dogs 2, Cat 0.

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