Ouch

Checked the netting over His repeatedly replanted baby onions most thoroughly. Firmly pegged down everywhere. So tried, gently and carefully, to lift one corner with a delicate claw. (Was so very thoughtless of Him not to remember that Myself sleeps between the rows.)

What Is Wrong With Him? Saw. Shouted. And lobbed a big clod of earth. Ouch. As almost always His aim was spot on.

Went to lie on His seedlings in the conservatory but the door was shut. Only thing left was His newly washed grey summer trousers. Luckily the garden tap leaks so was able to make My paws nice and muddy before settling down.

Did He Really Mean To?

He finally covered His baby onions with netting. Stops the birds from pulling them all up but also prevents Myself from lying between the rows to snooze. He cannot have thought of that when He pegged it down. Shall go investigate whether there is a small corner that is not fixed very well.

OLAHF spent a gloriously happy afternoon playing Catch with the falling petals from the cherry tree. 'Tis totally amazing how a large and hairy mog, albeit one with many Norwegian Pedigree Papers to its name, can leap and twist so high in the air with no apparent effort. The Game only ended when it misjudged the position of the tree trunk.

Snowing and More, Yet More, Planting Of Onions

The cherry tree is in full bloom and hums with bees of all shapes and sizes. When the breeze blows it looks as if it is snowing petals. OLAHF slept beneath it for a while and was gently covered in a white lacy duvet. Most charming. (Would have been better had it been Myself as am utterly more attractive. Of course. But there is always tomorrow.)

He is really really cross: Pheasants pulled up His baby onions so He will have to plant them a third time. Is currently muttering about putting some netting over the top. Hope not as Myself will be unable to roll between the rows in the warm earth.

Correct Again

Correct again. As usual. Those chickens are not nearly as stupid as they make out. Waited until He took a break from digging and went to look at His apricot tree, then sneaked over and started to pull out all the onions He had planted. This time He bellowed rather than the blackbird and positively hurled a bucket at them. Good aim (which makes Myself wonder if the worm yesterday wasn't definitely intended to land on My head) and caught one of them squarely on the rear. They rushed back and hid in their pen and He swore. Loudly. Not only will He have to replant half the baby onions but the bucket had been full of weeds which were now scattered far and wide.

His Aim Is (On The Whole) Absolutely Superb

Thought it was best to keep out of Her way yesterday so spent most of My time helping Him on the allotment. Was planting onions and things and He had let the chickens out onto the compost heap. And being enormously careful they didn't roam into My garden (in view of Her strongly voiced comments after they had demolished part of one of Her flowerbeds.)

Came to the conclusion that those chickens aren't quite as stupid as they pretend: He had tied a bit of flappy white cloth to the end of a long stick and every time it looked as though they were about to wander off He shook it at them and they immediately scuttled back to the compost heap. Stayed there 'til His back was turned and then tried again. One nearly managed to escape so He threw the stick at it like a spear. Remarkably good aim. Landed neatly just in front and the chicken absolutely galloped back, all a-flutter and squawk.

One of the blackbirds arrived to eat the worms He turned up and threw to it. (Must be a horrid feeling as it wriggles down your gullet.) Consumed 6 big ones in as many minutes.

Was work helping Him mind the chickens and plant onions, so sat down on a warm patch of soil. Quite close by in case He needed Myself in any sort of emergency. Was suddenly rudely awoken by a ghastly bellow from the blackbird which had hopped to another worm He had lobbed over. Unfortunately (Purposely? Sincerely hope not) it had landed extremely close to My head and the blackbird hadn't noticed until it was Almost Too Late.

Went back indoors and lay on His seedlings in the conservatory.

Oh Dear

She gave Myself unidentifiable meat chunks in gravy for breakfast. Not Nice. Reminded Myself of the probable taste of TB's Throwing Shoe which prompted an invitation to the poor beagle (only ever gets dry biscuits) to drop by for a snack.

Have never, ever seen TB quite as excited. Every single inch of it was either wagging or shivering in anticipation. Dribbling too. (Rather a pathetic sight though Myself refrained from any comment) Hoovered up the lot and then chased My bowl (antique Royal Lily pattern by Royal Worcester. Dated around 1880. So entirely appropriate for a Kitty of such Superior Breeding. In view of TB's cousin winning Best of Breed at Crufts was perfectly happy to let it use it. On this one occasion) around the music room trying to clean it completely.

Finally TB sat down and smiled. Gave Myself a lovely warm feeling that I had been so generous as to offer My breakfast.



Then TB was sick. Everywhere. Oh dear.

Why Norway?

Popped over to see TB and chat about well-bred families but it was very busy with the Throwing Shoe. Which is no longer white but generally mucky. And chewed. Must taste gross.

The collared doves are still crash landing and the fat pigeons still waddling around. So no change there.

He forgot to open the conservatory doors and cooked half His tomato plants. Was almost as cross as She was about the chickens digging up Her garden.

Norway? What is it about Norway? Why Norway? Wanted to ask OLAHF but somehow it didn't seem the right moment as it was asleep under the rosemary bush.

Waddle and Crash

A pair of fat pigeons is taking over My garden: Big, ungainly and with scarcely a brain cell between the two of them. Always walk one behind the other. Waddle waddle. Led by the female which is completely uninterested in the amorous advances of its partner. Waddle waddle. Male gets closer. Waddle waddle a little faster. Male even closer. Waddle waddle waddle as fast as its legs can go. (Why it doesn't think to fly is beyond Myself.) All over the lawn and amongst My plants. Like two silly clockwork toys.

The collared doves have returned to their nest in the fir tree. Both crash landed this morning and there was a moment when Myself could just see one of them inside the tree, tumbling and flapping down through the branches. The tree rustled vigorously for a few moments and then all went still.

Yesterday Our chickens dug up part of Her garden. She is rather cross. Bet they don't get let out again for quite some time.

Apparently Norway has its own breed of cat. Famous for long grey fur, size and energy.
Oh.

Oh 2

Just happened to walk up the hill and bump into OLAHF which had gone out some time previously and had only just been seen coming back (Myself had been waiting for over an hour for it to reappear.) Casually mentioned (in passing) to OLAHF that TB and Myself are creatures of ineffably good breeding which is Immediately Obvious to anyone with the slightest pretensions to intelligence. OLAHF expressed absolute amazement, not to mention almost as much disbelief, and pointed out that its own pedigree stretches back many generations in Norway and that it has all the paperwork to prove it.

Oh.

The fruit trees have been invaded by bull finches which are eating the flower buds as fast as they can swallow them. She is rather miffed but He has been taking photos by the dozen.

Birds and Breeding

TB - that unassuming, thoughtful albeit extremely thick, geriatric beagle - is actually related to a Best Of Breed at Crufts! A first cousin no less. Myself had absolutely No Idea, having believed for years that Myself is the only animal of Superior Breeding in the neighbourhood, but this news certainly explains My fondness for its company. Like to like as they say. Shall look forward to many conversations about Well-Bred Families.

Very interesting rustles, scruffles and muted cheeps emanating from the tiny bird box yesterday. And the little round entrance shows definite signs of much use by sharp claws. (Wish they were My sharp claws. Is dying to help in there.)

Fewer visits by Fredettes lately - and the big Fred stands guard and hustles them back out of the garden fairly smartish. If they were smaller birds Myself would follow to offer assistance, but in view of last year's slight fracas feel it is wisest to Leave Them Alone.

Edibles

Haven't the remotest idea where They went yesterday, but returned in a very good mood late afternoon and ate mussels for dinner. (That sauce is To Die For. And She left Myself a mussel too. Infinitely kind. Sometimes.)

The blue tits have indeed moved into the little box on one of the old sheds. Myself keeps estimating the height but it remains just out of reach. Shame. Mentioned to OLAHF that it would benefit another investigation but for some reason the idea was not welcomed. She has started leaving out meal worms on the bird table. Can't see the point of them Myself. Taste gross.

No wonder TB is occasionally odd. Since Myself didn't get any of His lunch yesterday, wandered over to see what TB was eating. Poor poor geriatric beagle. Only ever gets biscuits. Admittedly they smell good, but am sure it would love some jelly, p'raps even meat. Shall invite it to try some of Mine. (When it is one of My least favourite flavours of course.)

?

Where do They go on such disgustingly horrid early mornings?

Is off back to bed. Theirs.

But On The Other Hand Maybe There Is Now

Funny thing but as soon as Myself and OLAHF went away yesterday the blue tit that had been screaming at Us from the tree went straight inside the nesting box. We must have given it the idea as those birds are notoriously stupid. Made Mental Note to await further developments. And keep a close eye on things.

OLAHF was distinctly chilly, almost unfriendly, towards Myself during the late afternoon: Blamed Myself for the gust of wind that resulted in its falling into the bushes. (And most certainly Myself Did Not snigger when it happened.) And also for the fact that it landed in the berberis. (Huge, sharp spines.) And also because it was All My Idea in the first place. How totally unfair. With enormous magnanimity Myself refrained from pointing out that OLAHF looks frightfully tatty since This Episode.(Can't sit down either. Again.)

Nothing Living In There

OLAHF was nothing loath to climb the shed roof for Myself - In fact was extremely enthusiastic about the whole idea. So enthusiastic that Myself had to call it back down when it galloped up the wrong shed. Once in place We both listened intently to the nesting box but not a single sound did We hear. OLAHF tried the other side but still complete silence apart from a blue tit that sat in the apple tree and positively shrieked at Us with ear-splitting monotony.

After a while We gave up, having come to the conclusion that there is nothing whatsoever living in the nesting box. OLAHF climber a little higher up the roof to have a close look at the swingy thing on top that spins whenever the wind blows. (Is shaped like a fat pig on one end of an arrow and the birds occasionally perch on top for a ride.) Myself thinks this is why OLAHF went up there. (Has little understanding of its own size and weight.) But a minor mishap occurred - Just as it reached up with a hefty paw to pat the pig a gust of wind swung it suddenly round. Caught OLAHF solidly on its rump. Most interesting sound it made too. So did OLAHF as it slipped and slithered down the mossy roof tiles and disappeared into the bushes.

Myself is not sure how it managed to extricate itself as at that very moment remembered an important task indoors that had not been finished.

Revenge Continued

The rat from the compost heap is nicely ripe and has made a good addition to the stuff She keeps under their bed. Was raining when Myself carried it in so took the opportunity to dry Myself off on Their clean sheets. Funny how much damp and mess one Kitty of Superior Breeding can leave when She tries really hard.

Heard They were somewhat miffed when They found the seedlings. Now they have grown a bit they are really rather comfy to sleep upon.....

The nesting box on one of His old barns makes highly interesting sounds every so often. Shame He pinned it so high up. Shall have to ask OLAHF if it can get up there to investigate on My behalf. ('Tis not seemly for Myself to be seen scrabbling - and most probably slipping - on the roof which is mossy and extremely steep.)

Revenge Is Plotted

The Utter Indignity of being whacked on the rear by a heavy Sunday newspaper (sports pages). Spent much of last night (uncomfortably) Plotting Revenge.

As soon as He opened the conservatory this morning Myself nipped in and put a big and slimy fur ball (had been saving it up for several hours) just where He usually sits to eat His breakfast. Bullseye. (He hasn't yet noticed.)

Shall later go re-discover the old rat He buried in the compost heap. Should be nicely decomposing by now which will make carrying it a tad unpleasant but Myself is determined not to fuss in the pursuit of the Great Plan. Under Their bed will be a good place.

Wonder if TB will be capable of flinging the Throwing Shoe over the fence again? Not to land in a rose bush this time but among Her tulips. Must also remember to invite it in to share My lunch. (It always makes it sick. Very.)

All these thought have made Myself tired. A long nap on the seedlings in the conservatory is called for................

Oh

They went out terribly early on Sunday. After Myself finally woke up (so nice to have the occasional lie-in without having to help Her with coffee making) went out on an inspection of My territory. Alles in ordnung as a sweet little dachshund Myself once knew would have said. Shall have to try the phrase out on ONN's 2 nasty, scrawny and hairy dachshunds: Am utterly convinced their breeding is not all it purports to be and that they will simply Not Understand.

Late last evening They came back. Myself was extremely hungry by then in spite of having been left 2 pouches of food. Oh Joy Unfathomable! They had bought a Chinese meal. Was very surprised when She gave Me a pouch of food, but on reflection realised it was for snacking on during the night. My Manners are nothing if not Superb - Waited quietly until They had helped Themselves and had sat down at the table before popping over to get My own dinner from the pots They had kindly left open. Bang bang chicken - Superb. Special egg fried rice - To die for. King prawns - Ok but too much spring onion (Left it tidily on the edge of the pot) Chow Mein - Oh boy oh boy, were the pieces of meat scrumptious once I has licked the sauce from the noodles.

Oh.

Mistaken.

Rear end is distinctly sore and They are livid.
+

Growings and Some Wetnesses

Not to be outdone by His stunningly rotovated allotment She went out and bought lots and lots of things called alliums (Not a pleasant smell so certainly not for snacking upon) which She planted in one of the flower beds.

Their seeds are growing well in My conservatory but Myself wishes He had thought to leave adequate space on the windowsill for Me to snooze. The plants are usually slightly damp which makes sitting a tad unpleasant. 'Tis hard to pat them back upright too.

Was wondering why TB was sitting all afternoon by My pond looking anxious. And the Throwing Shoe had disappeared. But problem solved when She had a closer look and hooked it out with the end of the net. Rather slimy green but TB seemed very pleased. And shook it hard to empty it. Lots of green spots and blobs landed on Her skirt so She was Not At All pleased.

No Longer Glumpish. But Very Stiff

He got so horribly glumpish about having to dig by hand She went out and hired a rotovator. So yesterday He spent All Day rotovating the entire allotment apart from the potatoes. (One row is now unfortunately slightly shorter than before.) This morning He can hardly get out of bed.

But it looks lovely:

Lots of little holes to investigate. Rather a lot of birds also investigating the little holes for grubs and worms and other unmentionables. Myself shall be out there helping them to the best of My poor ability a little later today. (Slightly chilly at the moment and the ground is frosted. Nasty for My delicate paws.)

We nearly ended up with 1 chicken less as they were so excited at what He was doing they kept getting in the way. As it was a large and somewhat over-powerful rotovator they had to keep skipping out of the way as He passed by at a fast trot.

Glumpish

Somehow She refrained from any un-funny comments about ONN's 'Man who digs my allotment' but He is very glumpish about the fact that He too will have to dig ours by hand - Robins have nested against the door of the shed where He keeps the rotovator and He can't get it out now. So far this year has only planted 4 rows of potatoes so there is lots of digging left to do.

TB's nose is very sore where it hit the tree when attempting to catch snowflakes.

OLAHF is also very sore but in a different place. Finds sitting down difficult. Slid into a rose bush when it too was being Silly In The Snow.

All in all everyone is glumpish.

One is delighted

The robins have nested in one of His old sheds at the end of My garden - Neatly (and out of reach) on the top hinge of the half open door. Resting on top of it and cushioned by the edge of the door and a coil of wire hanging on the wall. Means He cannot get in there until the babies have fledged as the gap is far too small for Him to get through. She thinks it is delightful. He was also happy - Means He can't get out the rotovator for the allotment - Until He realised that He will now have to dig it all by hand.

At Least Myself Tried

The snow all disappeared overnight and nothing now remains bar the sat-upon tulips and the Throwing Shoe in the centre of rather a muddy, slightly dug up, patch of lawn. She is annoyed about Her tulips, He is annoyed about His lawn.

Myself - having so generous and understanding a character - popped out and caught a field mouse to console Them. Brought it into the Living Room. Proudly. Assured of a warm welcome.

Simply Cannot Understand Them at all. She screamed, and He threw a cushion, so took it back to the Music Room and ate it. (Wasn't very nice. Must have been because it had been lying around for a few days.) Later was rather sick. Left the remains tidily by His chair in the Music Room.

Improving Spirits

A large and on-going snowfall has done much to raise spirits this morning:

OLAHF has been out for over an hour being silly - sliding and trying to complete 4-paw drifts round imagined sharp corners before it falls over. Without much noticeable success. Is now a large snowball on grey legs. And Her tulips are rather sat upon.

TB introduced the Throwing Shoe into proceedings - And got hit on the head by a mini avalanche from the cherry tree when the Shoe hit the branches. Decided burying it was the better option. And then almost immediately sent snow in all directions in efforts to re-discover it. (Myself cannot believe TB forgot within 30 seconds where it had been buried. Think it is another Newly-Invented Game.)

Even Myself joined in - Patted a few falling snowflakes but it was a little chilly so went inside the conservatory when My paws became uncomfortable. TB (of course) then took this genteel pastime too far by leaping up to catch the flakes in its mouth and hit the apple tree. Hard.

Sad

Oh dear. We are all so very very sad. ONN was walking his 2 hairy dachshunds (£180 each as puppies he informs us. And can you imagine the mentality of someone who names a squat, ratty and mean-minded dog 'Thimble'? Myself shudders to think what the other one is called) on the allotments when one slipped its leash and attacked Ally & Pally. Ally escaped (loudly) but P was not so lucky. Caught, shaken and chewed.

ONN kicked his nasty little dog so hard it let go and put it back on the lead while He gathered up the injured Pally. So very very sad. There was nothing He or She or anyone could do.

ONN's wife came out and shouted at him and then burst into tears.

We took Pally away and later buried it under the rhubarb. It was a silly but in its own way a remarkably beautiful and fluffy chicken.

Funny, Very Very Funny

Myself knows it is Not Nice to laugh at another's misfortune but................ Yesterday morning the ONN (New Neighbour, he of 'my Man' who digs his allotment, hitherto to be known as Objectionable New Neighbour) had a real go at the BBC's people. In public, when several others were working on the allotments. Must have waited for them to come out for maximum effect. Complained, shouted, told them his sleep was ruined every morning by the BBC, and that today was worse than usual - earlier, louder and for longer. Went on and on and on, red in the face and spluttering with rage. We all gathered to listen, expecting nothing short of World War III to erupt, but no. BBC's people waited until NN had exhausted himself and then quietly pointed out that the BBC had been re-homed the day before yesterday.

Meanwhile TB is totally content with its new Throwing Shoe. Carries it everywhere and positions it neatly by the door when it goes inside. The previous owners must have cleaned it just before it changed hands as TB is now very white about the mouth.