Raining cats but not dogs

It's raining today, looks really nasty out there. I'm glad I'm wrapped up nice and warm by the fire. Liberty, equality and caloricity are magical words.

You scratch mine and I'll scratch your eyes out

The sooner she realises this is my house the sooner we'll get along. Full marks for trying but it doesn't always go my way. I really love that old Victorian chair that her grandfather left her. Such a plump cushion to sit on, but best of all the antique mahogany legs that I love to sharpen my claws on. I know she hates it, but I hate that stupid scratching post. Why you may ask, if I know it annoys her, do I continue to cause dissatisfaction by my continual sharpening? To have good claws, a cat must always be at war. Or near enough.

Rules of engagement

Take time to deliberate, but when the time for action has arrived, stop thinking and go. Out of the window onto the gravel path. Along the lawn, using the marigolds as cover. To the foot of the fence, pausing for the best attempt. Then like the coiled panther onto the fence post. Quickly descending into the neighbours garden and again taking cover behind an apple tree. The prize within reach causes me to salivate in anticipation. Victory is close at hand.

But like some cannonball from my past blocking the sun, I take too long to recognise the inevitable. Hurtling towards me at great velocity the neighbour's Wellington boot. Damn that Wellington.