It has been a very cat oriented week.
Firstly we abandoned Derek to her fate.
As her fate was to be looked after by uncle Robber and then Jason, both of whom she adores, we did not feel too guilty.
Then we adopted Mikey for a week:
Here he is, sunning his paw.
As well as real cats we have seen scary cats:
such as this floral tribute outside Archway park. This is Dick Whittington’s cat rendered in plant form. It has been here all summer. It looks terrible now, as someone has gouged its eyes out. It didn’t look much better when it had its eyes mind you.
It is here because Archway is apparently where Dick Whittington was about to abandon his dreams of fame and fortune and heard Bow Bells sound out the phrase: ‘Turn again Whittington’. So he did and became Mayor of London three times in a row.
And now we have Boris Johnson and a topiary cat with no eyes.
How times have changed.
We also found this rather more aesthetically pleasing sculpture in Queen’s Gardens:
which was put up as a memorial to a local lady who loved cats but who was also kind to everyone else.
Then there is this, rather more lurid offering:
simply described as a ‘flat pet’.
Then, last night when I got home, Derek was either so overjoyed to see me, or so pissed off that I had been fraternising with Mikey and assorted cats living, dead, topiary and flat, that she deposited a mouse in a corner of the kitchen.
It was alive.
Derek patted and poked it and marked it with ‘D’, while I tried to rescue it, and then not have it die of shock in my hand.
It was much more feisty than the last mouse she caught.
I managed to head it off at the pass, but then it jumped over my hand and shot down the kitchen with me in hot pursuit.
As this was happening Derek was still prodding away with her paw in an entirely different part of the room, which was very frustrating, as if I had managed to point her in vaguely the right direction we might have stood a chance.
As it was, the mouse shot off again, and actually ran under Derek’s nose, which she totally failed to notice, so intent was she on poking her paw into a pile of books behind which her entirely imaginary mouse was waiting to be eaten.
I ran some more.
We skidded about the kitchen like the very crap mouse Sweeney.
The mouse shot down the back of the elephantine built in fridge unit and all was lost.
Nothing we could do would get the mouse or the fridge to budge.
Derek was totally bewildered as to what all the fuss was about, and not at all happy that I called her an idiot to her whiskers.
We shut her in the kitchen with the fridge and the mouse overnight to think over her behaviour.
This morning I found small, punctured mouse on the kitchen floor.
I am just hoping that this is now the end of the mouse situation. Now that we have had cat week, I am all for equal rights, but mouse week would not be fun. Not at all.