Elegant cat and pretty hen

Cats are not one of my obsessions although they have been featuring in my thoughts a bit the last couple of days following the sad demise of Mimsy.

I could write a book about my youngest and her cat, Lola. And that is not an exaggeration! When I'm around them, I'm constantly grinning and shaking my head uttering "I've never seen the like!"

But it's little Mene who is amusing me right now. Mene is a very pretty grey cat, svelte and elegant. She has this air of French sophistication about her. I've grown very fond of Mene after caring for her whilst house-sitting.

But I'm afraid little Mene has been so adored she now has delusions of grandeur. She now thinks nothing is too good for a cat as splendid as her.

Recently she leapt daintily on to a small table is her lounge room, tippy toed to a bowl of rose petals and scratched around amongst the petals. Tail raised! Preparing to......n

It must have been such a shock to her when she was scooped off her feet and deposited outside the door to pee like any other common cat.

And when I went looking for a photo of Mene the only one I could find was one of her in her rose garden.

And that reminded me about the pretty chook I spotted at a lookout on my way back from Auckland recently. She obviously is living in the rough feeding off scraps left by tourists and other silly buggers like me who still like to stop on a clear day to take in the view of the Kaipara Harbour. But she doesn't take living on the wild side as an excuse for not looking good!

I'm off to Auckland again tomorrow - my younger son, Bernie is returning from Brazil for a holiday. I'm too emotional to write about that right now. Maybe after I've seen him again, assured myself with my own eyes that he really is here, I will be able to.

I'm going to make a note to myself to take some food scraps for the pretty little hen. I've been relying on the goodness of people I've never met to be kind to my son while he's been so far from home so maybe the little hen is a metaphor for him.