Billie is growing into her nose.
Her nose can just about reach the table tops now so we must be vigilant particularly as she loves chewing paper. She has just eaten my poetry. I am waiting to see if a sonnet or a haiku passes out of her backside.
Rocket says he feels marginalised and is fed up with having his neck chewed all the time. He retreats to the comfort of the sofa where sometimes Billie is not allowed as she chews the cushions. Perhaps cushions and poetry are similar - I'm not sure. She has also taken to ripping the lining paper off the wall in her room - maybe in the old days wallpaper paste was made of fish - I don't know but it is paper after all and presumably tasty.
Pocket is very pleased with himself as he announced he was returning to be an author and was going to write a story about a school for witches' cats called Mogwarts and he was changing his name to J.K.Pocket. I told him he'd be infringing on the Harry Potter franchise but he told me that was nonsense. He couldn't help it if he'd been named John Kenneth Pocket could he? Would be J.K.Prowling be more acceptable? I asked him who his audience was and asked if there was such a thing as Middle Grade Cats or Young Adult Cats but he ignored me. Works of Art are an infinite loneliness he tells me. Ah Rilke! I say. Never heard of him he replies. But I'm also working on a new book called the Tale of Two Cats it starts off with "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times." What are the worst of times?" I ask resisting the temptation to compare it to Dickens. You sitting infront of the News at 6 on TV and weeping. And the best of times? I ask. When you leave me to sleep without asking me stupid questions.
A cat in mittens catches no mice he continues
and nothing great in the world has been accomplished without passion he mutters, going to sleep on the table. Hegel said that I tell him - well not the bit about the mittens - but he's shut his eyes and is obviously working out how to get his book published which is what I often do.
Still no sign of Mrs Magpie and her/his consort but plenty of sign of her existence in the house. I decided to take the framed pictures off the wall to give them a dust and found she'd stuffed a quantity of dog biscuits behind them, also in the spines of the books which sit along the wall and inside letters and envelopes by the desk.
A beautiful young kingfisher who would not be doing that sort of thing arrived at the wildlife hospital this week along with yet another adorable hedgehog.
Below a Second flush of roses - there are so many roses in our garden now I can't remember the name of many of them but as Pocket would say a cat wouldn't bother with things like that, they don't have a desire to live a long life, to make it to Xmas or someone's birthday and certainly don't want to win the lottery or travel the world. They just want to be happy day by day not fret over the name of a rose.
I love the work of George Mc Kay - my favourite Hamnovae Market I have put up before but I love this one too. The harvest is happening up here and although there is no peat it seemed apt this working on the land.
