Otto is a cat with personality. Some cats have one and some don't . We have been owned by both types but right now we are under the control of Otto.
Here he is climbing the Fairy Tree which is home and feeding grounds to many tiny birds.
I wish they were quick little birds because he has the remarkable talent of removing any neckwear we give him within hours if not moments of receiving it.
Although he denies it vigorously he is extremely well fed and does not need to slaughter, disembowel and devour said creatures on our bathmat whilst we are at work.
He is in disgrace.
While our usually lazy cat has turned hunter, Blossom & Petal the the mutually affectionate drakes and Franny & Fanny their neglected and unloved wives, have been hunted.
We arrived home from work to find Fanny, way, way down on the river bank all alone, just a small pathetic white blob in the lush grass. With wet feet and a lot of apprehension we both trekked down there to carry our poor exhausted and bloodied duck back to the fold.
One, two, three ducks huddled together, too traumatised to have any interest in their evening meal.
The two drakes are inseparable, they are joined at the hip so to speak and now Blossom, or is it Petal, is missing.
We searched all the likely spots, combed the long grass for telltale piles of feathers, walked back to the river to ask the wild ducks bobbing on the water, inspected the girth and jowls of the neighbour's dog.
Still no sign of him. Joe even looked inside his shed, where no self respecting duck would dare.
Then I heard a joyous shout. On the third inspection of a tiny crevice, jammed tight beside the fence, Joe had found our Petal, in good health and delighted to be released from his bolthole.
Being the coward that he is, he obviously ducked (pun intended) for cover at the first sign of trouble.
While the others were mauled, mangled and smeared with mud fighting for their lives, Petal was sitting pretty and awaiting his rescue.