A strange little episode

Our cat, Bertie (female) is nearly 9, and weighs 3 kilos (7lbs). She’s very shy, and not at all aggressive to anybody/anything.bertie

But last night, while I was eating my dinner, she started to growl. I looked outside into the garden, and there was a large long-haired ginger tom cat.  About twice Bertie’s size. He’s a regular visitor. He’s very handsome face on, like a lion, but sideways on you can see he’s quite old. I think he wants to be friends with Bertie, but she’s not having any of that nonsense.

Anyway, she growled, then she turned her back on him (her tail wasn’t fluffed up or anything), so he watched for a few seconds then pottered off.

(The pictures of the ginger tom are library pictures, from our wildlife webcam, last month, as you can see from the date stamp!)

gingertom1ginger tomThen he smelled the pot where I grow some catnip. Bertie loves it and regularly gets right inside the pot for a little sleep.

catnip

My hand is in there for scale!

He kept his back feet on the ground, put both his front paws in the pot, and had a good old headrub and sniff at the catnip. He was actually trying to lie down in it, but only his top half was in the pot.

Eventually, he managed to get all four paws in the pot and curled up, still rubbing and sniffing at it.

By this time I’ve got right up to the window (wishing like billyo I had my phone camera with me) and just watched for ages.

His eyes were almost closed, but he gradually realised he was being watched. He could also tell I was no threat, so instead of jumping up in alarm and running off, he slowly and carefully, with as much dignity as he could muster, got himself standing up, got down from the pot, and strolled off. He was clearly thinking “I’ll just, erm, go, erm, this way . . . and perhaps she won’t think I’m an idiot”.

I laughed and laughed and laughed. As much as is possible with no voice!

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Ups and Downs

Well, life seems to be conspiring against me, knitting-wise, at the moment.

In no particular order:

The weather. It’s just too damn hot to knit. I’m so lethargic. Hate it. Our grass is now yellow straw. Very short yellow straw. Most of the border plants are coping without water, only the hydrangea which is under the willow tree in front of the leylandii needs watering once or twice a week. Understandable, really, with the two thugs it’s competing with. Can’t wait for rain, although the weather forecasters are suggesting it’ll be another month. Sigh.

The football. Very exciting. Much more exciting even than the World Cup is usually. Lots of excellent teams unexpectedly losing and going home. And I can’t believe England is in the last 16. That may of course change after this afternoon’s game. But the upshot is I can’t knit and watch exciting football. I mess up my knitting big time.

My health. I am in the middle of a bout of laryngitis, with no voice at all (can barely whisper) and feeling like five kinds of sh*t. Sleeping a lot. Languishing, really. Painkillers and lots of cold drinks, and some honey and lemon hot drinks for when the coughing hurts my throat.

Knitting mojo has disappeared.

So any one of those things would stop me knitting but all four together? Mm.

Luckily I don’t have any time-sensitive projects at the moment, so it just doesn’t matter.