Eeek!

Dear Cats,

I know I've been complaining lately about the plague of mice we've had this summer, and I understand that you're just doing your job. I do appreciate your efforts.

But I'd actually rather have the mice chewing the corners off everything in the pantry than lying dismembered in a pink and brown pool of regurgitated Whiskas on the back doormat. Honestly.





Looking on the bright side, I'm blown away that Farmboy, aged only two, can look at the coiled tendrils of intestine, soggy shreds of fur and disarticulated hind leg squelching up between his mother's bare toes, and instantly recognise it as an "Eeek, eek, eek!" (Toddler for mouse). A sure sign of genius.

Click go the shears

You might have noticed between the crutching shots and the Royal Show shots that Farmboy is looking just a little bit less hippy, a little bit less feral, a little bit less like a baby and more like a little man.

Yes, I finally gave in and had his golden locks trimmed.

From this:


To this:


And now for some gratuitous photos of small child, spring sunshine and cats:

Thirsty? If its good enough for the dogs, its good enough for Farmboy...


This is what life is all about:


Robin thinks about getting his feet wet:


Yes, these were the feral kittens that everyone said couldn't be tamed... Now we're struggling to keep them out of the bedroom!

Target training

Joy, ready to DRIVE off that cat walk...

(Is this baiting the contacts?)