There’ll be confusion in the house of the cat this evening — wherever that may be. For most of the last week, the cat’s collar has been sitting in our garden where it must have managed to either undo it or pull it off over its head. Late in the afternoon I was lying on the grass sipping a beer and reading a book when who should stalk up to investigate? None other than monsieur le chat, sans collar.
A deft bit of handiwork and I captured the cat and managed to hold the squirmy beast still enough to put his collar back on. I wonder what the owners will think? I wonder where the council pet registration tag has gone?
As to why I was lying on the grass sipping a beer and reading a book — well for some reason I woke up around 4 am and couldn’t get back to sleep. Over the next three and a half hours I lay in bed and listened to the continuous car alarm in the next street, the early-morning trains starting up, the traffic, birds waking and the sounds of Joey sleeping, but I couldn’t get back to sleep. As a result, by around lunch time I was dead tired and got nothing useful accomplished, at four thirty I gave up and came home early, to lie on the grass and sip beer and read a book.
