Of birds and Spring

'Spring is sprung, the grass is ris.
I wonders where the birdies is.
They say the birds is on the wing.
Ain't that absurd?
I always thought the wing was on the bird.'
Anon (well, who would put their name to this!)


Yes, Spring has definitely sprung and the lawn has been cut AND I can tell you exactly where the birdies is - in the trees in my garden - and I wish they weren't. The garden is where I go to relax (sleep, in other words) and frankly, at the moment, sleep is not an option. The birds (and probably the bees, but they just buzz in a respectful and quite soothing way) are busy 'doing it' as per the song. To do so they make as much noise as possible, chirping/chattering/cooing away and positively thumping through the leaves of our surrounding trees. Fluttering is obviously not de rigueur at this time of the season. Why don't they understand that we felines have to take our rest in the shade of the said trees and that we have very sensitive ears?

Here I am, trying to look as menacing as possible. My Slave has a theory that I refuse to exercise my domination of the great outdoors by not chasing our feathered friends away. Little does she know that my apparent indifference is in fact a cover for the fact that I haven't a clue how to do so. I have abandoned tree climbing (can be undignified as I found a couple of years ago when I couldn't work out how to reverse down the willow tree and had to attempt a back-flip that failed miserably) and climbing along the fences to intimidate the little blighters is not my favourite occupation; a majestic animal such as myself does not engage lightly in the equivalent of tightrope walking. So I just have to wait for Spring to wind down.....

Introducing myself

This is a new experience, being able to share my views with the world. I have to have an amanuensis, being currently thumbless, unlike other cats of more developed physique but, no doubt, lower intelligence. So I'm using the typing skills of my MS (she thinks that it's short for 'mistress' but it actually stands for 'my slave') now that she has told me about the wonders of blogging.  Apparently I have to thank her two colleagues J and N for this revelation. (I grudgingly allow her to have a second job as it pays for my food and her lodging.)

So, to introduce myself properly: I am a Maine Coon a breed that thinks it's a dog, according to many of our MSs. VSs (visiting slaves) all tell me that I am totally adorable - they have good taste, I'm glad to say. One tries to please. Very occasionally I have to put up with non-cat people and neighbours' dogs: I attach myself like a limpet to the former and they soon go away and as for dogs - they are beneath contempt (excluding the large agressive variety that make me beat a hasty but always dignified retreat behind the MS, who I must say has so far managed to defend me successfully at risk of her own life and limb.) But our canine friends will be the subject of a separate blog....