The Catparents have not been home from their voyage a month, yet already they torment me with new travails.
On this occasion they seem to have enlisted the help of yet another human, known to me as Mr Next-Door-Landlord.
I am beginning to lose track of the sheer number of different humans they insist on introducing to me. Nevertheless, it is important to log them: who knows when I shall require these details when planning a new campaign?
But back to my fresh torment. It appears that Mr Next-Door-Landlord has deemed it necessary to dig up my favourite hunting lodge, the hedge, and replace it with a fence.
Yes! A fence!
With no shady overhang, no gently curling and twisting branches, no dark and secret nooks in which to hide myself… how can this possibly be thought an adequate replacement?
How am I to maintain my secrecy when stalking the Fluttering and Skittering Creatures? How, without cover, am I to ambush the Floating and Swimming Creatures in the pond that has become so beloved an aspect of my kingdom? I am staggered at this lack of consideration.
They say that the hedge ‘had to go’ because the weight of it was crushing the ancient fence underneath. They say that the new abomination ‘will look much tidier’. They say that I will ‘get used to it’.
Pah! What do they know of life?
The joy of quietly fixing a young Fluttering Creature with my steely gaze, the not-to-be-equalled excitement of wiggling my perfectly rounded rump, the exhilaration of the subsequent highly-anticipated pounce…
Not to mention the bemusement as yet another Creature inexplicably escapes my clutches. Again.
To add insult to injury, the end fence post has been positioned shudderingly close to the resting place of my predecessor, Madam Flump. Her decorative rusted iron wheelbarrow containing her favourite weeds has been moved, her earth has been almost disturbed, and her overhanging branches have been cut down.
My estimation of the humans has taken a sigificant downturn – if that were possible!
I realise that I am now on a mission to reclaim this territory for feline use. My quest to seek out a new lurking station has therefore commenced in earnest.
The most likely location, which I am currently trialling, is sacred in equal measure to the Wheelbarrow of Flump: it is the bamboo patch that looms over the resting place of her brother Mr Felix. I feel that this is good karma; the vibes of my much-loved kindred can only have a positive influence on my escapades.
And so I sit under the bamboo, enjoying the dappled shade of its gently wafting leaves, and gradually regain control over my domain. Time will tell whether this will prove to be an adequate substitute for my erstwhile hunting lodge – but I have high hopes.
High hopes indeed.
Friends, I must leave you now. I have a suspicion that the Catparents are aware of my tinkerings with the computer, so I must strive to be more cautious for a while. I will therefore reduce my campaign updates to once every 28 noms. I hope that this will throw them off my scent!
Until next time…