It was Rupert's barking that alerted us to the stray cat that hangs around downstairs from time to time. This time, she was climbing laboriously up the tree outside our window with a kitten her mouth. Until then, I didn't even know she had a kitten.
Kitty stayed in the branches of the tree, good as gold, well-hidden by the leaves. L took a picture, but there was only so far the lens could zoom. And I didn't want to go downstairs to take a photo, I didn't want to scare her. Or annoy Mama Cat. The tree was right next to Roop's prefered peeing spot so he had to sacrifice that too.
Later in the evening, another round of barking from Roop brought L to the window. This time, he saw that Kitty had gotten down onto the ground and was hiding in the bushes and there was a group of boys trying to swipe at her with their toys. One of them had a water pistol and was shooting at her. He recognised the boy as part of the bicycle gang that tried to chase Queeni.
Off he went to give them a piece of his mind. The neighbour downstairs, outside whose window all this was happening, also went out and soundly rounded off in Mandarin what L started off in English.
So he thought that they got the message loud and clear. A little while later, they were back. He yelled at them from the window and they answered that it wasn't the kitten this time, it was snails that they were after this time. Like that was any better. L was horrified to see that they were having fun by stamping on snails and crushing their shells.
What's it with little boys and snails and puppy dog tails?
1 comment:
Grrr ... let me at 'em.
In the UK they'd be lynched.
In France the boys would probably sautee the snails.
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