I woke up the other morning and all hell had broken loose. A huge crater appeared behind the house and men in machines were eating sandwiches and drinking tea at every opportunity.
The inside of the house looks like inside of the fluffy one’s beard with bits of all over the place.
What was worse was the evidence that my enemy, the three-legged cat, had returned and left her mark in the soft concrete that the men put into the hole. What a cheek. It must have been while I was having a well-deserved nap because I didn’t see her.
I did catch a glimpse of a very cocky mouse called Derick who has appeared out of nowhere to chomp on the nuts left for the birds. When the mouse isn’t around the squirrel and the fox are enjoying merry japes in the back garden. There weren’t half as many non-me animals in our vicinity when we lived in Cornwall.
The assistants have scrawled some weird flowers in the concrete. They say they’re to protect the house. Honestly I don’t know why they’d need those when they have me. I am the greatest protector of all – except maybe when it comes to that pesky cat.