It’s not until you’re filming a cat trying to get through the cat flap at night that you realise how freaky-deaky their eyes actually are.
On the recording I made they’re about the only feature you can really make out, glinting in the light (only slightly less bright than the reflectors on the back of Carole’s trainers) and bristling with intelligence and, probably, evil.
I might have projected that last bit. But it could be the case.
It came knocking at the flap the other night, and I was in a position where I could just point my phone towards the cat flap with minimal movement and capture its attempts at ingress. It’s a persistent little bugger – I guess buoyed by the fact that it made it inside the other night.
But that seems, at face value, to have been a fluke.
There’s no evidence it’s got the technique down at all, and we’ve been taking Peppa’s food away at night in an attempt to discourage the little sod as well – if there’s nothing here when it gets here (not even a delicious egg muffin) then hopefully it’ll get the message and just stop coming round.
But apparently that time is not yet now. It’s just going to pay us a visit and rattle the cat flap like a shit ghost for the foreseeable future. It’s been around tonight, rattling everything. It’ll probably appear tomorrow as well.
But it won’t get in.
Well, it might. I don’t know. But hopefully it won’t.