This summer, the bindweed took the back garden. You can see it in the shot behind Harlequin there. You may also be able to see, if you look with care, the pale paws of Dion, the white cat who lives next door, wrapped around the fence on disputed corner.
Dion and Harley were not keen on each other. She'd turned up as a thin, scared kitten blinking her blue eyes through the windows of houses on our street, and our neighbours adopted her. Dion followed Harley around, like kittens do, then took to pouncing on her, which didn't go so well, then she grew up and it escalated into full-blown cold war, interrupted with occasional bouts of screech-offs. At first Dion's screech was a thing of glory and Harley's needed some improvement; then Harley developed a spectacular voice herself. Our patrolling Toms did not linger in either garden, not with these two brawling girls in residence.
In the past few years, the disputes had settled into the normal cat time-slice arrangement, helped by how Harley and Dion had calmed down in their middle ages. But there was still the occasional clash on disputed corner.
No comments:
Post a Comment