KItten of EVIL
Oct. 6th, 2014 10:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blamebramptonIt was a long weekend in Sydney. On the Saturday we went on a little night-time bushwalk with friends in the mountains to a glowworm cave, which was nothing short of delightful. It was particularly good to see how physically adept most of the kids in the group were and how open to Odd Things in the Outdoors. The one who wasn't was actively helped along by some of the others, which was lovely.
Yesterday, the rugby league team we sort of support (we don't really follow league, but they are Erskineville locals and were always so lovely when they were training at the oval or grabbing a kebab that we started to watch their games and cheer for them) won the premiership for the first time in 43 years. Their opponents were enormous, one of them looked like a polar bear, and for the first 65 or so minutes of the game it was very scary and could have gone either way. And then in the last quarter hour, the Rabbitohs went from securing the lead to streaming away to 'Chaps, are you still playing? The game is still on, you know.' I may have cheered quite loudly, which made this morning a little awkward when I realised my neighbours had bedecked their house with flags for the opposing, losing team.
They're still going to like us more than the previous person who lived here, he was a bastard.
Today I was catching up on the gardening. One of the biggest jobs was laying new pavers in the front yard, where there was originally a muddy path and where we've been making do with slabs of sandstone I just plonked down when we moved in.
Mr Brammers said that he was going out the back to read a book and let the cats have some outdoors time. I told him to keep an eye on the cats, as Rusketus had been eyeing off the Catproofing, looking for ways to thwart our efforts. Some half hour later I could hear a little chirruping miaow. I looked around and could see nothing. 'Have you got the cats?' I called down the side passage. 'It's fine,' came the reply.
I went back to digging in the concrete-like ground (the WORST soil: building waste, stones, cinders in one bit. HOW?! And full of onion weed …) and then heard the same sound. I looked up to see Ruus with his tail straight and high (the position that says 'I am cleverer than my humans! Hurrah!') trotting across the front garden towards the gate.
He had slipped through the catproofing at the side of the house, trotted down the passage to the gap under the neighbour's fence, squirmed through, made his way down to the front where he could hear me and offer commentary on my work, then squirmed through another gap to return to our garden.
The good news is that he does come when called, and since I had just dug a hole, things were relevant to his interests. He was extremely offended to be returned to the indoors. This was his face:
I suspect he is plotting my death. It will probably involve divebombing from the shelves beside the bed, and occur around 5am.
Yesterday, the rugby league team we sort of support (we don't really follow league, but they are Erskineville locals and were always so lovely when they were training at the oval or grabbing a kebab that we started to watch their games and cheer for them) won the premiership for the first time in 43 years. Their opponents were enormous, one of them looked like a polar bear, and for the first 65 or so minutes of the game it was very scary and could have gone either way. And then in the last quarter hour, the Rabbitohs went from securing the lead to streaming away to 'Chaps, are you still playing? The game is still on, you know.' I may have cheered quite loudly, which made this morning a little awkward when I realised my neighbours had bedecked their house with flags for the opposing, losing team.
They're still going to like us more than the previous person who lived here, he was a bastard.
Today I was catching up on the gardening. One of the biggest jobs was laying new pavers in the front yard, where there was originally a muddy path and where we've been making do with slabs of sandstone I just plonked down when we moved in.
Mr Brammers said that he was going out the back to read a book and let the cats have some outdoors time. I told him to keep an eye on the cats, as Rusketus had been eyeing off the Catproofing, looking for ways to thwart our efforts. Some half hour later I could hear a little chirruping miaow. I looked around and could see nothing. 'Have you got the cats?' I called down the side passage. 'It's fine,' came the reply.
I went back to digging in the concrete-like ground (the WORST soil: building waste, stones, cinders in one bit. HOW?! And full of onion weed …) and then heard the same sound. I looked up to see Ruus with his tail straight and high (the position that says 'I am cleverer than my humans! Hurrah!') trotting across the front garden towards the gate.
He had slipped through the catproofing at the side of the house, trotted down the passage to the gap under the neighbour's fence, squirmed through, made his way down to the front where he could hear me and offer commentary on my work, then squirmed through another gap to return to our garden.
The good news is that he does come when called, and since I had just dug a hole, things were relevant to his interests. He was extremely offended to be returned to the indoors. This was his face:
I suspect he is plotting my death. It will probably involve divebombing from the shelves beside the bed, and occur around 5am.
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Date: 2014-10-06 12:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-06 12:45 pm (UTC)So wrong. So very wrong.
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Date: 2014-10-06 12:48 pm (UTC)Banjo hasn't been especially mischievous... but the two boy tabbies we had before him were both hit by cars, so perhaps Sasha whispered something in his ear about behaving himself!
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Date: 2014-10-06 12:58 pm (UTC)The last boy tabby I had was when I was young and he was officially an indoor cat, but he shared some gene pool with the farm cats. He used to beat up all the farm dogs and sneak into the farrier's van and get a lift into the village, where he would beat up more dogs, before demanding a lift back with the grocer or walking the several miles home. My Dad accidentally ran him over once, breaking his leg. From that day until his death years later, he would swipe my Dad's leg whenever they walked past each other. He was a magnificent beast!
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Date: 2014-10-06 01:03 pm (UTC)Your old cat sounds so ace. One of the things I find amusing, talking to 'dog people' is how they dismiss the potential for cats to be able to have any kind of personality. Adam used to make silver balls out of aluminium foil and throw them for our first boy cat to fetch. We'd be able to throw them from the upstairs window into the garden, then he'd dash downstairs and go hunting for it, and bring it back upstairs about ten minutes later. So awesome.
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Date: 2014-10-06 01:13 pm (UTC)You're right, I've had dogs and cats, they *all* have their own personalities. Though Monster the cat these days reminds me of nothing so much as my old corgi, both ambulatory pillows ;-)
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Date: 2014-10-06 04:50 pm (UTC)Your kitten is adorable!
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Date: 2014-10-06 09:50 pm (UTC)