Hi! It's me here: Four-legged-friend. It's about time I had a turn at the old blogging sport, Mum's been rather hogging it recently - by which I don't mean she's been hog-like (although, you should have seen the amount of food she and her chums put away over Christmas - it's not surprising she's been attacking the garden; needs the exercise if you ask me), but that she's had all the fun herself; telling you all about her imaginary friends, who she calls felonious kleptosquaters, and her hopeless resolutions. Well, I thought I'd have a bit of fun today - and I discovered a cunning variation to my game of getting extra food to fill my tummy.
First, I caught a pigeon. Actually, I caught a pigeon which was lying on the ground just waiting for me to find it. It looked a bit chewed. And it was headless. But I still caught it. I tossed it around a bit to get mum's attention. And caught it again. Then the fun started. Mum grabbed a fork; no - she didn't want to share the pigeon with me - it was a big fork, the sort she uses to arrange leaves into piles and to stab holes into the ground. And she chased after me. We've played this game before and she never wins. I drop the pigeon, or rabbit, or cow pat, just long enough for her to think she can lunge at it, but at the last minute I grab it and jump around a bit, while she dances from side to side in front of me, waving the fork. Then - and she always does this too - she shrugs her shoulders and sighs and turns her back on me, dragging the fork slowly across the ground. I pretend I don't know what she's up to and creep up close behind her ... closer ... closer ... closer. And leap away just in time as she spins round. It's the same every time. Next, she throws the fork down and - Yes! Yes! Yes! - she goes inside to get me some food. Which I eat at the same time as managing to beat her in our little cat and mouse over the pigeon. Honestly, I should really train her better. You'd think she'd learn. She's never going to win this game. I am always going to eat her food and the pigeon. But while she's happy to play, and happy to give me extra food, I'll keep her playing stupid.
Only problem is - it's tomorrow now and she still hasn't given me my dinner.
First, I caught a pigeon. Actually, I caught a pigeon which was lying on the ground just waiting for me to find it. It looked a bit chewed. And it was headless. But I still caught it. I tossed it around a bit to get mum's attention. And caught it again. Then the fun started. Mum grabbed a fork; no - she didn't want to share the pigeon with me - it was a big fork, the sort she uses to arrange leaves into piles and to stab holes into the ground. And she chased after me. We've played this game before and she never wins. I drop the pigeon, or rabbit, or cow pat, just long enough for her to think she can lunge at it, but at the last minute I grab it and jump around a bit, while she dances from side to side in front of me, waving the fork. Then - and she always does this too - she shrugs her shoulders and sighs and turns her back on me, dragging the fork slowly across the ground. I pretend I don't know what she's up to and creep up close behind her ... closer ... closer ... closer. And leap away just in time as she spins round. It's the same every time. Next, she throws the fork down and - Yes! Yes! Yes! - she goes inside to get me some food. Which I eat at the same time as managing to beat her in our little cat and mouse over the pigeon. Honestly, I should really train her better. You'd think she'd learn. She's never going to win this game. I am always going to eat her food and the pigeon. But while she's happy to play, and happy to give me extra food, I'll keep her playing stupid.
Only problem is - it's tomorrow now and she still hasn't given me my dinner.
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