MasterB’s visits to Wanda’s garden are not going down well with Rosie. She believes that Wanda, and everything associated with her, is hers. So she keeps appaering on top of the wall to glare after a MasterB who is already on his next escapade.
I Could Come and Get You
I followed the pawprints and saw Not Cat standing ankledeep in the snow. As he turned his face towards me, a movement on the wall caught my eye; the fox, now jumping away into the garden beyond.
Cat didn’t like the snow; he was spooked by how noisy his footsteps were. Last year, his hearing impaired, was the first time I’d seen him look at ease in it.
Not Cat doesn’t seem to mind having crunchy footsteps. He’s been out several times. The students, from whom I adopted him, told me how they had found him crying in the snow and taken him in. When they located his owners, they were told he was no longer wanted.
I wondered if the snow might trigger some memory of being lost and alone, but there’s been no evidence of any residual trauma. The opposite if anything. This boy grows more confident by the hour. Rather grey hours today. I associate fresh snow with blue skies and crisp air, but today the sky has stayed leaden, and even misty.
I didn’t get any photos of Not Cat in the snow, but I did snap this insouciant Blackbird that he was watching covetously.
Snowy Day Blackbird
I am starting to suspect a conspiracy against my boy. It began with the wagtail. Normally, I like the wagtail, but it leads my boy astray and into the path of moving cars. Why is it always there, temptingly on the other side of the street, when I let him out on the morning? Could it be a trap? Do the crows from their high nests watch for the moment when I put his collar on and reach for the keys? Has there been a tweeting from the time the shutters are folded back; a synchronising of feathers; birds taking up positions oh so casually to funnel him into danger; blackbirds on high branches; pigeons perilously close to the main road; the wagtail diagonally across from the front door by the blind corner.
So I shepherd him into the garden, and hope he stays there and that the birds roll up their plans and fly out of his reach in safer environment.
Hope Springs Eternal
I hope I don’t need to explain that I did not share Not Cat’s hope of catching the blackbird. It knew full well he was there. Then a bluetit landed on a higher branch, so I guess neither rated his chances. I just hope it stays that way..
This blackbird was singing in the tree outside my window.
Undercover Blackbird
Isobel (and Cat)'s Blog 