My Secret Diary

 

1st March

( Cat Nirvana Day - day of good fortune for all cats.)

 

My worst fears have been confirmed, a dog has taken up residence in the house next door. He’s exceptionally ugly. I think he must have had an accident with a stretch-machine for he’s very long and short. His legs barely keep his tubby little body off the ground. He looks really silly running around the garden barking at leaves. (His name is Brutus - which is very appropriate for he’s a bit of a brute.) If I hadn’t scored out my resolution to create world peace between cats and dogs I might have gone to the fence to talk to him. I certainly would have told him to bark more quietly for his noise is preventing me from getting my beauty sleep.

 

Brat-2 has not stopped producing those horrid smells. And he spends all day lying down doing nothing (apart from creating dreadful pongs and a lot of noise). Really! By his age a kitten would have learned to do useful things like chase leaves.

 

To get away from the noise of the dog and Brat-2, I went to the park with Lucky. For amusement we tried to catch a squirrel. These overgrown mice can really move fast and every time we chased one it would be at the top of a tree before you could say, “Six silly squirrels sitting in a circle.” So we cleverly devised an infallible plan; Lucky would creep up from one side and I would creep up from the other. When we had it surrounded I would give the signal to charge. There’s no way a squirrel could outmaneuver two nimble cats. We selected our victim carefully, a young thing that looked all tail and no brain. With all our feline cunning we circled our prey like two lions stalking a wildebeest. Silently, like eagles hovering over a rabbit, we moved in on the hapless creature. As we began to charge, the squirrel spotted us.

“Excuse me,” he said aggressively, “can I see your squirrel hunting license.”

“License!” I exclaimed, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you know that you need a license to hunt squirrel in the park,” he said, “Are you completely brainless?”

Not wanting to appear stupid, I replied, “Of course I know - but remind me again.”

“The law is quite clear,” he said, shaking his head at us as if we were morons, “unless you have a special license, hunting is forbidden on bank holidays, full moons, Rogation Sunday, Shrove Tuesdays during leap years, the third Friday in alternate months, and of course on any day that has a Y in it.”

“I know that,” I said, my head spinning in confusion.

“So if you don’t want me to perform a citizen’s arrest,” he said forcefully, “you’d better get out of here quickly.”

As Lucky and I hurried away we could hear chuckling from the top of an oak tree. I think we were duped - I bet this is one of the days when a license isn’t needed!



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