Back I Am

Mabel's downstairs, in the dark. Her tail bell rings every time she rouses, and the sound comes sweetly up the stairs.

She's hungry. I can feel the hunger in her bones. I can feel it also in mine. Hungry and bored and frustrated, she bounced off my upper arm yesterday leaving two puncture-marks and a half-bracelet of bruise that aches and aches. It's the weather. It's been ghastly. Rain and wind, and she's been ready to fly free for a week. I've been keeping her weight screwed down, and every fibre of my being wants to feed her a huge, bloody crop of quail or pigeon. And also is praying that tomorrow the weather will clear, and we can go kill something.

The forecast is, of course, for showers or possibly heavy rain. A friend has told me I should be jumping her up to the fist over and over again to condition her and keep her from being bored, and I know he is right, but ... maybe it won't rain tomorrow...

She looks wonderful, of course. She's all grown up. And as calm and lovely as ever. This is her the evening she came out of a moulting pen. She'd not seen a soul for six months. Can you tell?


And here she is, special guest appearance at my niece's fifth birthday party, three days later...


Aimee loves birds. She loves, particularly, my parrot, The Birdoole. And she was keen to see Mabel. But faced with Mabel, all milk-glass chest and sinew, and burning eye and wicked claws, she cows at the last minute and hides behind her aunt. I don't blame her. Mabel's much....scarier this year. She's more solid somehow. Self-possessed. No shit. No messing about. Steadier in the face of the world.

Me too, methinks?

Oh, also: this was fun:



Ah, the best way to get around the hunting with dogs ban. "But officer....it's a CAT".

Sorry I've been away so long. No particular reason. Back I am.