The Cat was in disgrace last night and barred from the house. She brought in late yesterday evening a mouse – nothing unusual there – nor that she deposited it right in the middle of the hall. What was less pleasing was that the mouse was disembowelled, and worse from the mouse’s point of view, it was still alive and trying to lick its exposed guts. Quick action was necessary to part the mouse from this vale of tears and the cat was shut out from the house in disgust at her behaviour.
This tale is by way of prelude to the incidents referenced in the title of this post. It being a fine, warm, sunny evening, the RAF decided to celebrate as only they can by sending a couple of fast jets very low over The Chookery. Separated by about 30 seconds, I caught sight of the first one as it passed straight overhead and on down the glen towards the loch. As I watched the second one follow its leader, I saw a tabby streak shoot out from the paddock and hurtle around to the front of the house and in through the CatFlap(R) to safety.
Relating this tale later to Eddie over a cup of tea, he told me that he had seen The Cat imitating a streak of greased lightning only a few days previously, when it had shot from the house across the road from him and down his drive “so fast that you couldn’t see its legs”. The reason for this burst of speed from the normally laid-back feline was that it was being bombed and struck about the head by a pair of angry swallows, who obviously felt that it had gotten far too close to their nest. Most entertaining, and nice to know that the small beasties are gaining the odd victory over the voracious predator that The Cat has revealed herself to be.