Tommy's enjoying our quiet roads

I suppose it was only a matter of time before one of my cats appeared on this blog. I'm told that pets are far and away the most popular subjects for Facebook posts, though I'm proud to say that (until now) I've resisted the temptation to join in.

This is Tommy. He's frightened of all other cats in the neighbourhood, with the exception of one fluffy grey moggy, who he invites to share his food. According to fluffy grey moggie's owners, the invitation is frequently reciprocated.

Sadly, Tommy's timidity does not extend to the local wildlife. We've has some success in discouraging him from catching birds, but no mouse is safe from his attentions.  Considerate soul that he is, though, he usually bring them home live, then loses them behind the fridge in the kitchen. I've become quite adept at catching the creatures and releasing them into some quiet corner of the garden, though I swear that I've seen one little fieldmouse three times.

Tommy finds motor vehicles pretty scary, which is good news for his chances of longevity. However, thanks to the current epidemic, our roads are much quieter than hitherto, opening up a safe route for him to cross over and explore the delights of the Forest of Dean.  So far we have been 'gifted' with three squirrels and a rat, lovingly left dead on the lounge carpet. When the first squirrel arrived, I was sleepily half-watching the television. In the split second in which I saw the squirrel's bushy tail, it didn't look at all dead to me. My heart made an involuntary thump and I spilt most of my glass of wine.  I tell you; keeping cats is not a pastime for the faint-hearted.

Anyway, this morning I was met by the sight of half a rabbit on the hearth rug. I wrapped the poor thing in kitchen roll, popped it into a bag and was about to deposit it in the food waste bin when I had second thoughts. Do the council accept dead half-rabbits in their food waste? Uncertain of the answer, I dropped it into the refuse bin.

Then a ghastly thought crossed my mind.  I suppose it was a wild rabbit. It was grey... but so are many pet bunnies. O dear.

This did, however, remind me of one of my favourite stories.

Once upon a time, this lady's cat brought home the neighbour's pet rabbit – dead and covered in soil. Fearing that this could spell the end of a neighbourly friendship, she washed and shampooed the corpse, dried it with a hair dryer, then sneaked next-door and surreptitiously placed it in its hutch. 

Days passed with no mention of the rabbit, but finally our lady could contain her curiosity no longer. Seeing her neighbour, she remarked: 

"I haven't seen your bunny rabbit recently. Is he alright?" 

"He died." 

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that."

 "But that's not the end of the story," explained the neighbour.  "We buried him, but two days later he reappeared in his hutch!"