Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat....

When I moved into my house I realised that winters would be a problem as I have an allotment behind my garden and the mice like to come knocking when the cold spells are here, looking for a warm place to lay their heads.

I decided to get a cat like all my other neighbours to keep these pesky mice at bay - and felt even better when I got a rescue cat who was only 5 weeks old and was going to be put down as he had been abandoned by his mum. He was a scruffy little might who had a big personality, a spring in his step and was into everything...... how could I resist? Fast forward three years to today and I am sitting here looking at the cat world's version of Jekyll and Hyde....

Today is the first Sunday in a long time where I actually haven't had anything planned and could relish in a Sunday morning lay-in without feeling guilty. About 7ish I woke and stuck on the radio, dozing on and off when my little fur ball came sauntering into the bedroom and snuggled up against my neck purring away happily.

This bliss lasted about 45 minutes until Tigger's belly started rumbling - then out came Mr Hyde. The first port of call was my hair, pulling at it with his paws, when this didn't work I got a few nibbles on the shoulder - when I tried to bat him away he then decided to latch onto my arm like a leech, using the full force of his claws whilst sinking his front teeth into the soft fleshy part on my hand next to my thumb. This in turn resulted in a string of explenatives from myself and a loud guffawing from my flatmate in the room next door.

When I managed to get Tigger detached from my hand he shot of the bed, up the blinds and out of the bedroom window - managing to break one of the blind slats in the process. Git!

Considering I was well and truly awake by this point, I decided I may as well arise into the land of living. I had only been up for 10 minutes when I heard the cat flap going and saw Tigger standing in my kitchen - with a mouse tail dangling out of his mouth (he still hasn't figured out the concept of keeping mice out of the house!) I'm sure I've read somewhere that cat's see this as a type of peace offering, but it really doesn't feel like that at 8 in the morning when you're still half asleep, with puncture marks in your hand.

As much as I want to be mad at him I can't help laughing at this situation I've found myself in, chasing a baby field mouse around my kitchen and taking it back out into the garden to live another day. Although he drives me round the bend, I couldn't imagine it any other way, especially when I know he will be curled up on my lap later the picture of innocence.....