book worm

 This week  Billie has eaten my phone case and attempted to eat the phone. Perhaps she was calling home - she managed to take it out of the case and fortunately for her only cracked the screen so she ingested no phone numbers or bits of plastic.

An expensive mistake on my behalf for leaving it on the table. Now most things like shoes, phones, books etc are placed up high that even we have to reach up for. She did eat the book I was reading, though luckily rejecting the last few pages so I knew the ending. I remember now how Pixie (one of our old wolfhounds)had stolen a xmas present from my bag, unwrapped it and ate it - it was a cookery book after all and Pixie was very fond of things like that, avidly watching Ready Steady Cook from behind the sofa, where she'd chewed herself a comfortable head rest.

Rocket informed me that he too liked books and so one day accompanied me to the library. I thought dogs might be allowed in libraries but they asked if he was an assistance dog and although I considered manufacturing a limp I had to admit he wasn't and really wasn't much help with anything either so I was asked to take him out. Rocket was understandably upset because he wanted to look in the history section. He said he was interested in The Spaniel Inquisition, anything about Napoleon Bonio, or Terrier-ist attacks as well as the bombs the Germans used in World War two which he informed me were called Labradoodlebugs.

Pocket said the history of cats was far more interesting and if there wasn't already one he would pen one - a sort of aide memoire. 

The Ancient Egyptians he tells us were without doubt the most cat friendly society. He glares at me - us cats were considered to be semi-divine and anyone who killed us even by accident were sentenced to death.

Rocket wanted to know who would be sentenced if one had been killed by a Labradoodlebug?

Pocket ignored him and reminded him that you can keep a dog but it's cats who keep people. Cats find humans very useful domestic animals.

 

We've had several hedgehogs on release up here on the farm and although I can't be certain if it's hedgehogs or cats eating the food I put out it is always gone in the morning. I was encouraged by going out with a torch one night and seeing one - it's head over the food bowl chomping perkily. It reminded me that when we first came up here and didn't have dogs we left a bowl of cat food in the porch for one of the cats. When we came back from our evening stroll there was a hedgehog in the porch partaking of the nosh. Seeing us he moved very slowly and lined himself up next to the row of boots with a sort of I'm not here you can't see me I'm one of these stance.

The next evening when we came back he'd brought a friend and I kid you not the next night there were three of them.

Billie and Rocket in full flight,

The other week the village held its annual fete. It is a typical small village affair with scarecrow competitions, homemade produce and prizes for the biggest vegetable. A brass band played and two people called Morris did a dance with hankies.

Like Pocket I've penned a sort of aide memoire about it but have left out the band and the hankies.

The village fete

They walked to the fete with jangling pockets.

Carter dragged his whippet round the ring

but did not win best in show.

Johnboy threw the wellie into the football net

it took two men to untangle it.

Jack's sister sold her old hairbands on the bric a brac stall 

their cousin Keith knocked over coconuts with a cricket ball.

Mrs Fry's flapjacks won second prize

and Mrs Hicks won the cup for her pickles.

Sally Fink's daughter made a fudge monster

which Carter's whippet ate before it was judged.

They ran out of hot dogs and the beer

became too warm to drink.

Jessica Brown cried when she didn't win

the miniature garden on a plate

but later was allowed to watch TV and stay up late.

The hawk in the bird of prey display

flew off across the fields

and wasn't found until the sun went down.