As I write, Smokey is locked in a grim death stare with Black Cat under the bus and they are both making those awful howling pre-fight noises. He didn't come in for dinner yesterday, so I finally went looking for him and found him up by our old campsite up the hill, feeling very sorry for himself in the bushes. He's got a few battle scratches and got bitten on the ass, which means he lost the first fight with Black Cat.
We had a long chat about how maybe it's time to hang up the boxing gloves and say farewell to the fightin' days of yore when he was a young crazy cat lookin' to stake out some turf, and he slept on it, but tonight he's decided to give it another go. Honey is growling and barking as well and Duncan and Ian are shouting at them to stop it, which has set off all the other dogs in the caravan park.
Ahh here he is, back in the safety of his snoogly bus bed. Come on Smokey, my old friend - rest up next to me and be a proud & mighty warrior in your dreams, there is adventure enough without having to get chomped on the ass.
No comments:
Post a Comment