Oooo...you are all so good and kind to be fretting about me...but no need to panic, I haven't slipped off this mortal coil...just couldn't think of anything to write about actually and I know not everyone is as enamoured as me about poking about in Ancestry...always write about some poor child scaring Crows when he was only eight when I can't think of a topic.
Anyway we had a bit of unwelcome excitement last night when Molly escaped and legged it up the road towards Hubert and Marie's...pitch dark of course and it was raining. It was Himself's fault naturally...he'd let Bobby out of the front door for a pee and didn't close the door behind him...
Murphy went out as well, but he stayed close to the door...he'd found a big moth he was busy tormenting...too enthralled by the moth to follow Molly, thank goodness.
So Himself found the torch...something of a miracle in itself...and off he went in hot pursuit. You have to remember the poor old chap is a bit ancient and he was all ready for bed...teeth out...slippers on.
Sheer luck that Hubert's dogs began barking when Himself was calling the naughty girl...they must have frightened her enough for her to turn tail and come racing back to safety...
Molly is such a total sweetheart...mad of course...quite mad in the mornings when she races round the cottage at a hundred miles an hour with Murphy lying in wait to leap on her as she goes past in a blur...they sleep all day and then repeat the mornings late in the evening...sliding across the floor and ending up in a heap together...chasing Crane flies and batting their toy mice about...the mice have long lost their sparkly bits and most have also lost their tails. But their favourite toys of all are scrunched up balls of kitchen foil...
Himself is trying to teach them to bring the balls back to him...he saw a cat on FaceAche that could do that...he's not having much luck so far.
The Shed Saga Continues...
