Sunday 14 September 2008

Kes comes a-visiting

Dad must work today so he's out early for a while - long enough that the Angel B spots the missing car and volunteers to let us out for a chase about. It's a beautiful warm day, so we can stretch out on the terrace and watch the world come and go. The Geordie roofers working on the "Home-for-the-Bewildered" behind us shout to each other and sing along to the reggae music on the radio. Very surreal - No Woman No Cry in an "Auf Wiedersehen" accent.

We get a nice walk round the allotment, and Dad spots that the new French beans are pick-able, so returns with hoe to do a bit of hoeing, and bags to harvest into - beans, chard, toms, courgettes, salad potatoes, raspberries and a carrier bag of perpetual spinach. So much in fact that he can pass a bit to the neighbours

He heads for the SB Cambria (barge) hoping to deliver a saved newspaper to da boss (Basil), but Basil has swapped his volunteer shift out with friends Mark and Cath, and the Jack Russell, "Kes". Dad invites these guys back to the terrace for tea after their stint, and we get to "welcome" Kes into our abode. Welcome? Meg and Haggis, quick sniff, decide it's Kes and are immediately chilled out to the idea of this "invasion" (especially when Mark and Cath make a fuss of them).

Me? I'm not so sure and I have a few gruffs and growls along the way, not sure if this interloper should be here, or be borrowing my stuffed robin toy, or getting on my Dad's lap. I settle down soon enough though, and we wander round each other being polite, but keeping a wary eye.

And then there's the rock! Kes has a thing about rocks. When she gets bored she attacks them. She chooses a likely one, about fist sized and starts paw-ing at it with her front feet, the pouncing on it, dragging it towards her using her paws, and scratching all around it vigorously, as if there might be a mouse under it. Kes and the rock are soon zooming across the ground in a bewildering battle.

On this occasion, I'm on Dad's lap, looking down at her warily, when she suddenly starts poking at a suitable pebble, in the pebble-gutter at the edge of the terrace, then pulls it out onto the terrace. I am outraged, leap onto the patio table and shout loudly at her "Yaff!". She stops, taken by surprise at my shout, but then starts on the rock again, dragging it across the terrace, and reversing herself in front of it. I try a few more shouts, but she keeps going, so I have to lep' down off the table and check this out. She won't listen to me and I shout at her to stop till the humans, looking on in bewilderment and confused amusement, shut me up.

The nerve! Moving Mummy's rock like that!


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