Boy has it been long or what? Life in the fast lane here!
I've been extremely busy. Ever since my woman has taken to politely asking me and Bowie the Brat (he is!)whether we would like to go out at night, it's been all go, go go.
Bowie has all kinds of friends, and he usually simply vanishes down the street when we walk out, but I am a mature tom, so I have my routines down pat.
First I walk down to number 28 to see if their front door is open, and if it is, I know my way to the kitchen as they keep the food for their old cat down there. But that lady sometimes forgets I do that, so if I'm really lucky she leaves some titbit out on the counter. I'm partial to a nice rasher. But I don't dismiss a nice greasy frying pan either.
Then I walk down to the corner house, to see if their front door is open. They've got a silly golden retriever who is a very sloppy eater, and I quite like his nibbles.
When all doors are closed though, I usually walk down the street to see if any of my mates are around. Mate usually hangs out underneath the bushes on the corner, and Big Black has a favorite garden seat a few houses down. I haven't seen that bully Nose for months though, and good riddance!
Will you look at those hind legs? Bowie still hasn't stopped growing...Thankfully I weigh at least three times his weight. That makes a huge difference when we mock fight for being alpha male in our house. He's quite relaxed about that...usually he submits and shows his side to me, just like in the photo in fact. And he always shows respect when we accidentally meet.
Oh...and I have been in a proper night fight some weeks ago. The black female from the other corner suddenly attacked me from the alley. I swear she had no cause, must have been pre-mating season! She made such a racket that my woman left her bed to come rescue me (not that I needed rescuing, I had it all in hand!), but I couldn't prevent the nasty feline tearing my ear. What? Oh...okay, yeah, so I screamed a bit. My woman says she recognizes our voices anywhere. Anyway, that torn ear gives me a very suave look, a bit bad-boy, you know. I quite like it, myself.
Bowie has asked me to tear his ear as well, but I refused. He can get into his own fights, right?
Right, time to visit my bowl.
Take care, tar rah!