I think it is time that we had a little chat. It would seem that you and I would like different things out of life. I think we both want a nice comfortable bed and plenty to eat, we are similar in that regard, but generally I would rather not have to deal with my dinner whilst it is still breathing. You on the other hand, well I can see that is a sport you both quite like.
So, if I may, I would like to lay a few ground rules down.
Firstly, at least when you bring your gift of dinner home, can you make sure it is quite dead. I would be ever so grateful. Not least because you lost a mouse in the kitchen last week, and I’m hoping that you found it at some stage overnight, I haven’t smelt anything really pongy yet, but there is still time. And also because it was terribly upsetting to hear you playing the mouse you bought in yesterday like a squeaky set of bagpipes. I’m sure the mouse hit a perfect F sharp. And when we come rushing in, because we are not attuned to mouse singing you both raced outside with mouse still firmly in Eric’s mouth.
And just incase you hadn’t realised your scaring the dogs witless. Now if we still had the terrier it wouldn’t have been a problem she would have joined in the hunt. But to find a lurcher (who should be a hunting dog but really isn’t) shaking and panting because he would like to get into his bed but you have dropped a rather gruesome present into it, well it really isn’t fair. The lurcher has asked me to tell you that he would rather not have presents like that. And when the golden retriever is barking and growling his merry little head off, what it actually means is “Can you take the mouse outside please”.
Just before I forget, (the sooner the better). If you bring a pidgeon home again in the middle of the night, and I still have no idea how you actually got it through the cat flap, as I haven’t seen a pidgeon that big for many a long year. Can you not spend the remainder of the night plucking it for us. Honestly we will take our presents unplucked. Its just that walking into the kitchen at six in the morning, barefooted, to be greeted by a floor completely covered in feathers that then swirled around my ankles, was slightly unnerving. And even though the kitchen has been swept through several times since then, I keep finding the odd downy feather of the deceased pidgeon.
your faithful servant,
the provider of the munchies.