Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday in Tuesdayville ...
Mr B, having become an indoor cat on account of his enlarged heart, is now my inside window cleaner. Buster Keaton? George Formby? Take your pick. ;-D
The first time he began his window 'cleaning' antics, I was halfway down the driveway, in the dark and the fog/smog trying to feed Fermata. My ears pricked up, the hairs raised on my neck and mine and Fermata's eyes widened as we listened to the scraping and scratching and odd thumping noise. Definitely a long breath out moment once the noise source was found.
Now I'm used to it. This larger than large, real life 'Simon's Cat' whose stomach has no full indicator. He terrorises my house plants ... declares himself hungry at all hours ... redesigns my rugs ... and is all fury and enthusiasm when it comes to showing just how far he can spread the litter from his litter tray.
As to his nemesis that kept beating him up before he set up camp in the lounge? Well ... in spite of my view that he almost certainly has a home and my efforts to dissuade him from coming round ... and despite Fermata and Lady Clemence's objections to him ... Allyn now comes each night, gives me his most pathetic array of mewks and ends up being fed along with everyone else.
They played 'The Cat Came Back' on the radio today ... I listened with a wry smile ...