Derek had her first run in with another feline at the weekend.
She loves our new garden.
She doesn’t go out in it much. She fears the outdoors. It is full of ditches and danger.
It is not full of food and underfloor heating.
I see her point.
She loves our new garden because basically it is like cat cinema.
She perches on the edge of the CLD (TM), and scans the garden with her beady eyes, chirping and keening at the various wildlife that flits from tree to tree and bush to bush.
It makes her very happy.
This time though, instead of a plump, juicy wood pigeon or Declan and his pecky little ways, there was the most beautiful, tiger like tom cat with sleek fur and a devil may care attitude.
He swaggered across the middle of the garden. Derek saw him as he rounded the hot tub and started to make his way back to where he came from.
She went ballistic.
Her fur shot out at every angle. She looked like an angry, Rastafarian tea cosy.
She swore and swore and fizzed and jumped up and down.
Oscar burst into tears and only cheered up when I told him that she was saying incredibly rude words in cat language.
Then he moved closer to see if he could figure out what she was saying.
The cat in the garden moseyed idly over to the French windows to stare in amazement at the ‘thing’ in the house.
Derek lurched forward in attack mode, totally forgetting the French windows were shut.
She promptly smashed her head on the window and bounced off.
This made her, understandably, quite a bit more angry than before.
I was afraid all her fur would fall out with the stress, so I opened the French window to have words with the insolent Tom, who had, by now, installed himself in a front row seat with popcorn and a large drink.
Derek shot out from behind me and ran towards him at full pelt.
She stopped inches from his nose (he had not moved at all).
She swore and wailed and hissed and furred at him.
He looked benevolently bemused and did nothing.
It was only when I moved forward that he started to retreat.
Derek assumed it was her victory and chased him half way across the lawn.
He gently wafted over to the fence and wandered away.
She stood there, and stood there and yowled and yowled.
I said: ‘Derek?’
She stopped and turned to look at me. I could see the utter confusion on her face.
It clearly said: ‘I had no idea what I was going to do to him when I got this far, but I was in too deep to back out….Fookinell.’
I said: ‘Are you ready to come inside now?’
You have never seen a cat move backwards so fast in all your life.
She spent the next two hours under the CLD (TM) repairing her wounded pride.
We will never speak of it again.