Hello everyone. It's been a busy week. Let's start with Monday. I returned home from my evening dancing class to find a pigeon standing in the hall. Brad and his brother Beed were having a coffee in the kitchen, chatting nonchalantly, just as if there wasn't a pigeon standing in the hall.
"There's a pigeon standing in the hall," I said.
They looked. There was.
He was a racing pigeon, and he looked really pissed off. Who could blame him? After stopping to rest, he'd been mauled by the cat, bundled indoors through the cat flap, and then left to stand at the bottom of my stairs, ignored in his hour of need.
Beed had been at my house all evening, had had a bath, made teas, watched telly - and had actually trodden in blood and feathers, walked them through the house and still not spotted the pigeon.
"Put him in this box," I said to Brad. (The pigeon, that is, not Beed.) "He's probably going to die, but at least he'll be left alone."
Brad got a towel and edged slowly towards the pigeon. Then he edged back again. Then forwards. And back. While he worked out the best and most logical way to approach putting the pigeon in the box, I picked up the pigeon, and put it in the box.
Then, we found the cat and cast him out, shouting "MURDERER!" (Technically though as the pigeon was still alive it was only attempted murder - but that's not quite as effective to shout). And yes, I know it's natural for cats, and they bring things in as gifts, and I should praise him, and blah blah. But I'm not a cat, I'm a human, and a vegetarian at that. I don't want dead or dying creatures as gifts. A book token or scented candle would be far more appropriate.
Anyway, every now and then I peeped into the box, fully expecting the pigeon to have fluttered off to the big loft in the sky. But no, he just looked up at me, with an expression that said "I need something, and you are not giving it to me." I went to bed feeling inadequate.
In the morning, by some miracle, he was still alive. So I phoned local wildlife superhero Roger Musselle , who kindly agreed to take him. I really hope he lived to race again. I'd grown very fond of him.
This event has made me think...why do pigeons race? Do they know they are racing? What do they win? Oh, and it has taught me something too. If you want a man to notice you, don't dress as a pigeon.
Other news this week...I've been quite ill with a cold (Bad times). But yesterday Pam and I went to sunny Sarfend and visited the splendid Kitty and Den. (Good times!) We looked enviously at the treasures in their lovely house, had cream teas at Leigh-On-Sea and a superb lunch made by Den, and caught up with some essential Inky Crows business. I even got a beautiful print for my birthday!
(Copyright Kitty Guthrie) Isn't it fab? have a good week everyone.