Slashed Seat Affair - Tomb of the Unknown Tom-Cat

Is it me or are there more road works than ever before? I know we’re reaching the end of the tax year and councils have to spend their budgets etc, etc, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many gainfully employed hole diggers in my life. I seem to be sitting in endless traffic queues caused by the road works best friend... temporary traffic lights.

The other morning I even found them digging up the road in front of my driveway! I had received no prior warning that a smallish-JCB-type-vehicle would be preventing my car’s exit that particular morning. To be fair, the hole diggers were very friendly and accommodating, but a little prior warning from would not have gone amiss.

A few days later and said hole was filled, but my cat was missing... Being the eternal pessimist I was convinced that Mouzer (aforementioned feline companion) had met an earthy end, what with him being the most inquisitive cat in the known universe. He even disappeared under the floorboards when I was doing up my bathroom, the little bugger. He also enters (uninvited I might add) the downstairs flat. Having rumbled the cat flap and eaten another cats food (that must be high up in the ‘shalt not’ feline commandments) he goes on to terrorise our neighbour. If she attempts to usher him out a quick flick of the paw reminds her never to be so insolent again.

Anyway, I digress. I was convinced Mouzer was dead. Buried under earth and paving slabs and there he would remain, buried in the tomb of the unknown tom-cat. Future archaeologists would find his tiny remains and gleefully claim this to have been a perfect example of the alpha male of the species.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, he wasn’t dead. He turned up a day and a half later having obtained squatters rights in the flat downstairs, where no doubt he had Pat cornered for a good twelve hours.

Night before last, I heard foxes fighting. The most blood curdling shrieks from under my window. A high pitched wail of such magnitude it could mean only one thing. I was convinced Mouzer was in the throes of being beheaded. He wasn’t. Just another example of how my tiny little brain assumes not only the worst, but the goriest of any situation.

The cat’s fine and licking his arse as we speak.