We have a cat. She is not the brightest of creatures, but we love her anyway. Even though she has urinated on our bed twice, even though she runs from the very sight of me.
However, she cannot handle the catflap. Not the hole that the flap fits into, but the flap itself. So far, this has been rectified by the use of a pair of clothespegs to prop open the catflap so the poor widdleums creature won’t have to use her delicate wittle head to lift the flap (this from the creature that used regularly to fling herself at closed windows – a piece of clear perspex presents insurmountable problems). However, we now have a Squirrel Problem.
You see, squirrels are generally clever creatures, possibly as clever as the cat herself. Like the cat, they don’t have difficulties coming in and out when the catflap is pegged open. They’re certainly bold enough to come through the catflap when I’m in the kitchen. We’ve found bits of bread that they’ve pinched (time to invest in a breadbin, perhaps).
This morning, we awoke to find lots of muddy little squirrel sized pawprints all over the sideboard, all over the snowglobe we brought back from honeymoon, and all over the bowl of nuts that were left over from the wedding. That is now sans nuts. The fickle feline can bloody well learn to push the cat flap open herself from now on.
I wonder where in the garden the squirrels have buried the nuts?