Sunday, September 1, 2013

Not falling, but waving . . .

Hello, it's Chloe here.

Forgive me for butting my nose in, but I rather suspect that my Mum is planning to tell you a story all about me.  Call me mistrustful if you like, but  I wanted to make sure that you got the true facts.
Well, you'd want the true facts, wouldn't you?
My Mum, although a devoted slave in almost every way, can get a little confused when reporting a simple incident . . . particularly if the simple incident relates to me.

Take this idea of hers that I was chasing a squirrel up the fence.  Pure imagination, not an ounce of truth in it!  I've far better things to do than to chase squirrels.

True, when they jabber at me so rudely from the branches overhead I am inclined to reply.  But I do so very politely.  I just tell them, in best Bengali, that I think they're grey-furred scumbags.  In no way does this mean that I'd deign to chase them.

So, I wasn't chasing that squirrel the other day . . . I was just casually climbing the fence in order to examine the perch where the squirrel had been sitting.
Was there anything up there that I ought to know about?  It's always wise to find out.
You never know where you are with those scurrilous squirrels . . .  believe me,  I knew exactly what I was doing.

True, the fence was a little steeper than I'd anticipated . . . but, so long as you don't look down, there's no limit to how high an athletic and determined cat can go.

It was then that my Mum distracted me by taking out her camera.
Not the kindest thing to do.  No self-respecting young lady likes to think of her rear end, however beautiful, being featured prominently in a photo.

But, nothing daunted, I continued to climb and, as you can see, successfully reached the top of the fence.

This is the moment when, in my Mum's version of the story, I looked down and lost my nerve.


True, I looked down . . . but just to give an airy wave of the paw . . . and also to make sure that not all the photos were concentrating on my backside.

True, it looked a long way back down to the path . . . but, if my Mum tells you that I was stuck, that I called out to her to catch me, and then dropped down into her outstretched arms  . . . don't you believe a word of it!

It's a sad fact of life, but I'm afraid some Mums do love to exaggerate their own importance!

As for that squirrel, the one who caused all the trouble in the first place . . .  it's not that I mind what squirrels think, far from it, but I do rather hope that he wasn't watching . . . grey-furred scum-bag!