The cat came back last night.
I haven’t seen it, or heard it for a while. Not since our preventative cat measures have been put in place – the removal of anything it can get a claw into that might contain even the smallest hint of food, and the positioning of Peppa’s cat food (at night, at least) somewhere deep within the house that this interloping cat would have to be the bravest creature on the face of the planet to come and get at.
But there it was, rattling away at the cat flap. Like some kind of disgruntled spirit, unhappy with the afterlife.
We think it came in the other night and had a bit of a barney with a bin bag which I had positioned out of the way, and out of sight, inside a bucket of recycling. It might have been the cat, sorely disappointed at the lack of morsels, or it might just have been damage to the bag caused by us constant trapping it in one of the kitchen drawers. It was hard to tell, but it has once more prompted a change of tack when it comes to dealing with the fricking creature.
Now all rubbish bags, no matter their fullness vs capacity have to put outside. It’s a huge waste of big bags, so we’re currently on a run of small and more-or-less useless from a size perspective bags which makes the bin look like a rubbish-filled ball pool.
But still, it thwarts that little whiskery bastard.
Now I think it just comes round and rattles the flap out of spite and general evil. I expect, one day, to find it just staring in the window like that evil monkey in Family Guy. But for now it’s very much a knock-a-door-run kind of cat…
Or knock-a-door, come in, nom things, and run kind of cat.