On cat crapping.......... {:of

Fucking next door neighbour's three-legged cat has just crapped on the grass.

Smug little bastard.

Wouldn't mind so much if he were to give me the time of day and be friendly in a purry-scratch-me-love-me way, but no; the bugger just runs off, .....no,.... hobbles off... if I as much as put in an appearance outside.

Little shit was looking straight at me while he was doing it too. Well, it was less of a ‘look' as more of an unfocused, slightly boss-eyed, thousand-yard, Fuck-Me-I’ll-Never-Get-This-One-Out stare as he heaved and squeezed.

He also had a silently panicked expression, like the countdown to launch had already started and missiles were heading his way any second. Y'know the expression….. The one with the whiskers well forward on Full Alert, fur slightly bristled and flanks heaving repeatedly from the effort.

I think he did just the one.

Seemed like a long one.....

Might have been split in two for ease of delivery. Y'know, so he could take another breath. I couldn't tell from here.

All I know is he had to stumble forward to lay it out, on account of it was that long. Kinda awkward move to make with just the one front leg. He must be developing a new technique, because usually he rotates and gradually elevates his ass to spiral it.... It's kinda mesmerising to watch in a way that takes some explaining. You gotta be there to see it really.

I ought to charge admission.

Put a placard up on the road.

Serve bleddy tea and soddin' yeast buns........

Anyway.... Finally, all finished and rising from The Assumed Position with a flank-quivering finale, as he clipped free the last squidgin that may have been dangling. Whiskers back into neutral position again and with eyes now fully functioning, he looked straight at me as if to say "Wot?".

I’ll give you bleddy “Wot?”, you little sod. Just you stay there for a minute and let me find a bleddy rock.

After the awkward moment had passed between us, he hopped off with his hoppy gait, adding insult to injury by glancing down during the turn and giving his efforts a lingering backward look, as if hoping the points awarded were going to be worth the strain to his precious pencil sharpener.

I’ll give the little shit some points…..

Better go out and scrape it up before I forget it's there and tread in it, .....like I usually do.

Have to do that walking-on-heels- thing then, or the sides-of -shoe thing...... or on tiptoes, all depending on the Area of Spread, to a suitable spot to be able to go to Boots-Off Mode. Then make with a twig to dig it out from the tread, (WHY can you never find a nice strong twig when you bleddy want one?), and finish off with the old water and scrubbing brush routine.

Cheers me up no end, it does. Oh joy, is me.

Still, I guess it could be worse.

Mustn’t grumble, eh? {:oI

N.B.
It could be a ‘she’ I guess, but I prefer to think of it as a 'he' since I'm pissed at it…… If it was all purry-scratch-me-love-me then it would be different.

In that case, it would be better then, if 'he' was a ‘she’.......I could call it ‘darlin’ and stuff.

Well, I would anyway, but, ....y'know,.... it gets kinda complicated..... affection between males and all that. It's different for we Boys.

I just pretended with my buddy, Lomax, .....the little darlin'.

I still wonder where he got to, y'know..... {:oi
K. {:o)