Thursday, May 24, 2012

What cats do

This poor bird flew all the from Morocco to get to our coal cellar, then these guys pounced.

The Prime Suspect.

A possible suspect but I ask you, is that likely?
Cat photos by CBQ of course - we thank you.
Even the early part of the evening today was warm, so warm that I parked my deep philosophical turmoil inducing search for the truth and the meaning of life and strolled out into the garden to fix the fence. This selfless act of self abuse accompanied by a fair degree of physical pain left me feeling bruised but smug. I deserved my ham and mustard combos and the rewarding cool drink of  7 Up Lite mixed with fresh orange, suddenly all was well in the world and the guilt I felt over the unfortunate dead swallow was forgotten. I also narrowly missed the prelims in the Eurovision Song Contest and was comforted by the shocking news that nothing interesting was happening to anyone on Facebook and Twitter was err...busy as usual,  so I wasn't missing much, then I ironed ten clean shirts. In May life is good unless you're a migrating bird.

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