Ocelots have a new toy

A toy dog to be precise, delivered in the darkness of a thursday night. 

.....Hmmm what gentle sport shall we have.... 

I could hear them as they each took a high sentinel post  and regarded their prey toy

....At some point SHE will leave the house and then...... 

Her ladyship is an aristocratic spaniel who is holidaying with me whilst her persons are parleying  and digesting cheese, wine, and probably vampire repelling amphibians.

She is part of the extended multispecies family, so they all know one another. Dogs have the freedom to travel in cars and such like, as companions. Felines do travel by car and stay in other habitats at times but they generally have the freedom to come  and go through their own special door, the portal to their wild selves, when they choose.  Then return and be pampered and turn their playful games on to more docile  sport. How perfect for them a small dog.

So far it is gently done, a dog's bed is a perfect cat's bed, particularly perfect if the dog wants to lie in it and can't cos  the shadow of a panther is resting with a paw out and a small but discernable slow rhythmic tail twitch.

The Old Spaniel has learned a new trick, sent by sms to those in the lower latitudes. She has found a way of sleeping atop a crate of groceries delivered, covered by the fallen skirt from the laundry. A sort of Spaniel Fakir slumbering on her bed of nails, of soya milk cartoons, sauce bottles and vertical spaghetti. Being mostly blind she can not see how clever she is being and therefore is not averse to attempting it.

They watch on from the comfort of the dogs bed, or her duvet or her blanket. And I have watched all from the sofa whilst consuming yet more lemsip.

One of the cat tippees is now back in place. 

How long before her ladyship finds it and what will Ocetlots do then?

This is a thank you - with permission

To the biped hands of the Post IT Cat that sent me a letter in the post.

Dog, n A kind of additional or subsidiary Deity designed to catch the overflow and surplus of the world's worship. This Divine being in some of his smaller and silkier incarnations takes, in the affection of Woman, the place to which there is no human male aspirant. The DOG is a survival - an anachronism. He toils not, neither does he spin, yet Solomon in all his glory never lay upon a door-mat all day long, sun-soaked and fly-def and fat, while his master worked for the means wherewith to purchase the idle wag of the Solomonic tail, seasoned with a look of tolerant recognition. Ambrose Bierce 1842 - 1914

The Ocelots have allowed this, because they realise that had Ambrose been defining a Cat, the entry would have been shorter by 7 words in the first sentence. There would be no need for the third sentence and there should be a replacement of 2 words in the last sentence.

But it was near and far enough to amuse them. And cats can start sentences with but.

And with and.

PB

Snow

Today driving to work I was intent on keeping the gritter in sight, but not close enough for him (yes it was a male gritter lorry)  to dirty my windscreen. I was looking at how the fan thingy at the back was dispersing the grit so that it covered bits of the other side of the road too.  Up the steep hill safely enough, noticing the banana brain in my rear view mirror who never seemed to brake in a timely enough fashion and wishing, not for the first time, that I had a Hong Kong Foooey car and could drop something to get his attention out of the boot of my car - without hurting him.

This went on for about a mile or so, watching the gritter in front and letting my other senses keep a track of the "driver"  behind me. Finally I noticed I had been driving through a really beautiful bit, a forest, and my attention had been on the  grimey orange gritter.  

The trees were amazing, very tall and long and elegant there was a steely stoic quality to them as the light behind them,put the branches heavy with snow, into relief. It was a surreal sight and I nearly missed  it.

The rest of the journey was beautiful and uplifting. I'd timed the journey to avoid the early morning lunacy, on a day like to day I am even less inclined than usual to join the lemmings trapped in tiny metal boxes (Thank you Mr Sumner) , but even so every sense had to be alert to others doing odd things in the road and relearning the responsiveness of the car and wishing someone in the sky could paint the words... "use low gears!"

No music, just radio 4 this morning. Womans Hour - my heart sank, but it was actually very interesting Meryl Streep, quietly insightful, amusing and amused. 

Didn't see much wildlife, but chose roads that I knew had a fair chance of the gritter, - hence my close and prolonged encounter with the golden amber  beastie - so not too surprised. I saw a horse alone in a field  tonight, no rug, no shelter and no companion in sight... I hope there was a fellow equine out of  sight to me. 

The office closed earlier than usual today too so even though my journey was still over 2 hours home I was back before the expected time. The vertical pupils  of the Ocelots narrowed. What was I doing back in their house at this time?  Hmmm still maybe we can get  an early supper... With an unconcious synchrony they rose from separate heated places, leading me they strolled towards their bowls.  One squawked and the other more refined opened her mouth slightly, both training the biped with a small reward of interest in her.

Looking out over the wildness that is my garden and the valley beyond, the world is beautiful even in its harshness.   

People smile at the snow - if its the first day, when they'd be ground down by the rain.  So many people work from home now  that today, whilst extreme, has not been  a repeat of previous snowed in days. 

I found a quote whilst reading about the snow in 1963 - a time of old money before I lived and thought hmmm but wouldn't it be great if time future really was contained in time past.

"People expect too much now. In 1963 about five weeks went by without a first division football match"

Teased by hope