Good morning!

The morning started, as mornings tend to in this household recently, with a cold nose inserted with love but no delicacy at all into my ear. I was ready with a witty riposte.

"Whthfrn SNORE!whtfk?"

The nose became a tongue and I think it may have penetrated further into my ear canal than usual because I could suddenly smell purple and hear burned toast.

Coffee and co-codamol was consumed, my usual breakfast, and Mutt had her potato pea and steak breakfast. One of us is spoiled. I'm fairly certain it isn't me...and then I donned my dog-walking trousers, she donned her Going Out Bra (it's her harness, but it is mechanically similar...) and we set out. If you own a dog I am fairly certain you have at least one item of dog-walking clothing, with pockets of dog biscuits, poo-bags, spare lead, harness, device for getting dog out of horses hoof/tree/river/horse...

Another grey day, with a hint of promise and large dose of diesel fumes in the air. We avoided the No.21 Bus with its somnambulistic contents, and driver, as it whistled its way to the city, there to deposit jaded commuters to start another day. The odd smile on their faces suggested that like for me, today was payday. Oh so briefly they were in the position of having more money than month.

Seren has an interest in weaving. Specifically she likes to do laps of the bollards at the end of the road until her lead runs out. Then, as I follow her course to un-weave it she follows ME, thus re-weaving the cord, and her, and frequently me, in interesting new patterns.

There was An Incident, my friends. Seren's snoofling, as we crossed The Other Bridge, conveyed to her inquisitive yet street-unwise head a scent. One of interesting foreign undertones. A hint of mystery. A suggestion of romance. She followed it across the bridge and into an elder shrub.

Unfortunately for her, attached to the other end of the scent was a white tomcat...

The meeting was...brief. Luckily for Seren the Tom wanted to be somewhere else and both he and she accelerated with Olympic prowess and no grace whatsoever in opposite directions. I fear Seren may have been subjected to a Shouting At by the cat, and possibly a Demonstration of Defenestration, because on the way back she only stalked one leaf and a bottle of Oasis.

She is now sat in the living room, swearing quietly at Twit...

Good morning Gaz
Good morning Seren

White kattypusses
Especially if they are toms

Are not to be trusted
They whop
Your noms