What is she on about now?

OK, so having moved again and almost immediately lost Tigger after the dog attack, life seems to have settled down and the cats are are settled. After all, what more could a cat want but an endless supply of small furry or winged objects to stalk, catch and kill before dragging the corpse round the large amount of indoor space before deciding where to abandon the remains? I can give you an idea of some of the choices which include under my bed, on my bed, under the mat and in the bathroom. Or even the bath. And those mats, they have a lovely way of sliding across the floor if you run along and jump on them. There are stairs to galumph up and down, a nice long corridor to tear up and down, a lot of space under the beds for lying in wait for, well anything which passes really, not to mention that whopping great roof terrace where you can chase each other up and down sounding like a herd of elephants. I almost forgot the garage, because it doesn't have a window just bars and there a whole pile of boxes (literally) you can scramble over and knock over, come to that, before collapsing exhausted on whatever is nearest.

Now I don't know if patchwork cats (tortoiseshell if you are being posh) are born daft or if I've just inherited two retards but Pickle and Squeak have not done too well in the freedom stakes here, to date. I've just come indoors again after a rescue mission requiring some ingenuity. There is a large concrete tank (a deposito) not far behind the house, formerly used for water and now thankfully empty. It has steps up the top of the walls on the outtside and must be 8ft deep or more. So far it has not filled with water when it rains but there is a bit of tree debris in there and so forth. No steps on the inside (it isn't a swimming pool however much it looks like one) and I have been aware of the possible hazard. My ears picked up a faint cat meow when I got out of the van after an evening out. Following the sound along the track, I was hardly surprised to discover Pickle scuttling about on the floor of the said empty concrete tank meowing in an agitated fashion and correctly assumed there was no point in suggesting that since she got in, she could also get out again as this overlooks the distinct notion of the muppet having fallen in. Essentail equipment - head torch and long ladder. Cat climbs up, job done.

But this story needs filing along with how I had to let her out of the lockable cupboard under the stairs up to the roof, wherein resides the washing machine and enough room for a nosy cat.  How she fell like a stone off the roof of the van and narrowly missed me working at the back doors at the time. Or how her oppo, Squeak,  has to date spent a night in each of the vans and nearly gone to the market with me, jumped for the sink and missed and generally been a clumsy lump.