Firewood and cats...
Have been having fun with the firewood and the cats. Wood stacking news first - I finished off the stacking in the cool of this morning. It's not an unpleasant task - in fact I quite like making the stack cohesive and stable. Am not saying I spend ages choosing just the right place for the next piece of wood, but...
Now some cat news. Oh joy. Red Fred is suddenly aware of Speckles the stray, and considers it his job to 'escort' the interloper off the property. Yesterday afternoon, investigating some yowling, I found Fred and Speckles in a ridiculous pose - neither was moving and their foreheads were touching, like warring, head-butting bulls in a nature programme. I threw a stick at them.
A wee while later I spied Red Fred sitting innocently on the fencepost under the Pond Paddock Archway (gardening reminder to self - buy a climber to go up and over this archway). Innocently? Oh no. It was one of his classic ambushes, and, sure enough, just then Speckles the stray slunk underneath him. Speckles! Look up, dear cat! Fred leapt down like an avenging superhero, and a whirling wrestling match followed, with cat legs and cat bottoms everywhere. This time I threw a plate at them.
Fred the Cat
First thing this morning I'd finished hand-feeding both Speckles and Minimus on the cottage verandah. Walking over to the house I found Fred lurking on the table by the pond. 'What are you up to, Fred?' 'Oh, nothing much - just warming up my whiskers...' Hmm. There is no need for him to be anywhere near the pond or the cottage, so I carted him into the house.
A cat spy!
An hour later, trundling into the woodshed for the nth time, I suddenly got that spied-on feeling. Looked around, and sure enough Speckles was sitting by the Banksia lutea, watching me. Aw - nice! Trundled past the Herb Spiral for the next load. And there was Red Fred, sitting by the Rosemary. Not again! These two furry sillies needed supervising, so I weeded the circular path around the Herb Spiral. Lots of chives and marjoram seedlings, patches of clover, and so on. Dug out the saddest batch of irises ever - no wonder they aren't flowering. The soil in these surrounding gardens needs attention.
It must be a big boy-cat thing. Minimus and Buster, both girls, are far less complicated.