Saturday, November 12, 2011
Birds 1: Graham 0. My poor cat. He lusts after the birds in the backyard, crouching ever so still to watch them, and making his little chirruping sounds, but so far in his almost three years living here, he has never caught one. (His Bad Influence Friend Charlie has, though.)
This afternoon he came very close, chasing a bird into the laundry shed. But then the bird's mates swooped to the rescue, squawking loudly, which created the necessary diversion for Graham's quarry to escape. Graham was left to crouch on the ground looking comically bewildered. I have never seen birds be so proactive outside an Alfred Hitchcock film. I wished I had a camera.
While I am talking about my cat, Stupid Cat Songs has reached a new low with the advent of 'Come On Grahamleen' in the style of Dexy's Midnight Runners. Yeah, you heard right. Grahamleen. "Mew-ra mew-ra mew-ra mew-ra-yay…"
While I am talking about my cat, Stupid Cat Songs has reached a new low with the advent of 'Come On Grahamleen' in the style of Dexy's Midnight Runners. Yeah, you heard right. Grahamleen. "Mew-ra mew-ra mew-ra mew-ra-yay…"
Here is a bonus picture of Graham asleep on the couch the other night, looking as if he is dreaming of pew pew pew. He looks very fat but that is partly a combination of fluffiness and foreshortening. Partly.
