The other night saw a tired Chantelle and I finally retire to bed just before midnight after having successfully returned from a Ster Kinekor screening of It’s Complicated (which by the way is a thoroughly enjoyable movie in case you were wondering).
Anyhow, as it had been for the last couple of days, the wind was absolutely howling outside, once again determined to make living quite miserable and in which of course does succeed… particularly when we’re talking about the cats.
You see, our dear darlings Olympus and Achilles can’t exactly spend much time running around, hunting and playing outside without being blown from the one end of the property to the other and so they’re pretty much pinned inside for the whole day – which of course translates to a hell of a lot of pent up energy come the evening and in other words our return to the home.
Needless to say, this pent up energy immediately manifests itself in play time and so Chantelle and I need to do our evening’s business while carefully stepping over the usually rolling around and kicking combined fur ball entanglement that is Olympus versus Achilles.
So teeth brushed and book pages turned, we turned off the lights and lay our heads down… when all of a sudden, out of the complete blue, the sound of frenzied paws gripping along the carpet accompanied this fast flying bundle of fur through the air, paws streched out and claws extended – landing in a heap on top of our unsuspecting, blissfully unaware heads!!
Luckily for me my arm was kind of hanging over my head so that took the brunt of the scratch attack but poor Chantelle was not quite so lucky, even going so far as suffering some bleeding from her scalp! Nothing major of course, but unnecessarily sharp, painful and a rather rude awakening one must say.
So up we sprang, grabbed our spectacles and flipped on the lights, hunting down the two miscreants who had of course bolted back to the lounge following our initial surprised outburst. Of course catching the little buggers to give them a smack and throw them out of the front door quickly proved to be quite the pointless exercise as they didn’t really take our angry demeanours very seriously and simply kept walking back in right after you scooted them out, meaning that in the end we simply had to give up and returned to our room where we closed the door for the night.
(Cutely enough, the two of them were found lying stretched out in front of our bedroom door the next morning of course…)
Hee hee, they'll never guess I'm actually just biding my time until the right moment to attack!