They're out to get me....................
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My wife believes my preoccupation borders close to obsession. That I am growing moody, unpredictable. That I should seek help?
"Go and see a therapist." she nags, wielding the frying pan at her shoulder.
But like I told her, "If you think I'm going to pay good money to someone who's professional title is only a word space away from 'The rapist', then you're as deluded as Gordon Brown's press agent.
Why do they persecute me?
Surely there are more deserving candidates?
Just three houses along lives a traffic warden..........
My world has become a feline Twilight Zone. My mind a cat-dominated fugue, exasperated by the fact that not one of my neighbours actually owns one of the mouse-molesting shit-bags.
Honestly people, I've tried everything.
One of my neighbours -a particularly opinionated, never-married, community gossip type- advocated orange peel.
"Why?" I enquired, hopefully.
Her response was a simple shrug followed by the knowing wink of a wise old sage who has never been wrong in her entire life and would love nothing better than for you to suggest otherwise.
The same middle-aged fountain of spinster knowledge who once, when on hands and knees scrubbing her kitchen floor, experienced a sudden and mysterious paralysis. She was only released from her "Littlest Hobo" parody when, some hours later, she finally realized that she was kneeling on her breasts.
In-spite of this troubling insight into a neighbour's sagging psyche, I tried the orange peel anyway. And would you believe it? (No they didn't die or flee in terror) The furry little bastards actually ate it..............
The shit quotient increased to the nth degree, only now glazed with a gaudy, orange vomit. A sort of muesli bar garnish.
But come on........what the hell was I expecting?
Vinegar was next.
"That'll get rid o'them our Robert." my dear old mum assured me.
As it turned out, it had its good and bad points.
On the plus side, the orange vomit ceased and the cat-shit-muesli-bars, for the time being, vanished.
On the negative, the areas where said vomit and crap had lain were now occupied by yet more cats.
But not ordinary cats. They were cats with food parcels. The meals-on-wheels, all you can eat, round the clock, buffet express of sodding cats.
My garden was a sudden proliferation of dead birds and small rodents, marinated in vinegar. I can only assume that the condiment added a little extra spice to an otherwise bland snack.