It’s quite hard, I’ve discovered, to clear away the remnants of privacy bushes and such like – in fact, to do anything in the garden, when there’s a cat that isn’t yours kicking about.
And that’s not just because once you’re out of the house, you have to hope you have everything you need because you cannot get back in without a furry intruder.
It’s because she’s everywhere. And always underfoot. Which is adorable. But makes it quite hard to walk around carrying things that might obscure your ability to see your foot area. And if you accidentally knock her, she then attacks your feet for a minute to let you know that you knocked her. Which, again, when you can’t see her is quite hard to avoid.
Then there’s the fact that if you’re, say, cutting branches into a waste bucket for taking to the tip you have to hope that they fully in the bucket and don’t remain overhanging. Because if they are overhanging she’ll then take them out of the bucket. And when you try to pick them, or any other bits that have missed the bucket, off the ground she will leap out of a bush and attack your hand.
And there’s the thing where you think she’s left you alone, and you breath a sigh of relief, only for – at a random moment – her to fly out from under a bush and bat at your legs for no actual reason.
Or, yesterday, while Carole was outside potting things up – in bare feet – Trixie insisted on attacking every single wasp in the Huddersfield area and bringing them down to our patio where they would roll around in cat-based pain. Thus making the patio deadlier than that swarm of bees in My Girl.
And when she’s not outside hindering you in your work, she’s sitting on the doorstep – front or back, she’s equally bold at both entrances now – waiting for the tiniest gap that she could get into. We’ve had to buy cat treats specifically to lure her out of the house.
She’s like the raptors in Jurassic Park. For the past few months she’s been testing the fences, and now she has free reign of the whole area.