Easter eggs & poisonous chocolate competition
Posted: Saturday, 26 March 2005 |
We cats don't do chocolates, nasty poisons to us furry ones.. and the thought of commercialisations such as Easter eggs - ugh...
Yet, in the spirit of things human I have below tried (and probably failed) to join that fast guy in Carnan Road and be different.
Last night on patrol was magnificent. The long twilights have arrived again and the smells and sounds of summer are here.
If only the beeb would allow the upload of flash movies (or sound files) cos last night the snipe we a drumming and I would love to have been able to share their magnificence.
Anyhow, my winnings, please forward them to Carnan Road Express as I'm sure they will be more appreciated there.
Love Ming
Comments
yes Ming....summer signs are here: The cats are scratching with newly hatched fleas, coverd in fat red ticks and this morning I saw the first midge. Ho hum :-$
witchinthewoods from Mull
No midges in the Corrour forest yet. The republic is held in the icy grip of midgelesswinter as well. Truly you live in the land of summer!
I envy* your insect bites Ming!
*this may be a lie.
Dave B from The Peoples Republic of South Yorkshire
Mao again Ming! As a very choosy cat who likes his meat red and preferably also in tooth and claw, I too do not do chocolate. My female servant, who does that self-denial stuff, doesn't do it much either, but my (rather rotund) male slave would were he allowed. Please note my grammar is quite good for a country cat; I am originally from Finstown and rather a good family, but now reside in the great Metropolis of Stromness. The voles are still plentiful although the industrial estate creeps ever nearer. My humans quite often indulge in some of what they call the amber nectar whatever that is - it smells disgusting and one bottle would pay for several weeks' supply of Whiskas, but there is no accounting for tastes. I envy you your freedom to roam in the gloam as I once did, but, alas, too many of my precursors are buried in the garden, and now I can only sit and stare out of the windows as darkness falls.
Yours wistfully,
Loki.
Loki from Orkney
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