Sparrows, she said. Ha! If only…
It’s been peaceful since we moved here. Apart from the cows and the postman… and a few odd visitors like the hedgehog. I was really starting to feel I could relax a bit. She obviously doesn’t need as much protecting here.
For a start, I don’t have all those bedrooms to worry about… in fact, no upstairs at all! It took me a while to work that one out, ’cause there is an upstairs. We live in a house with an upstairs… but that isn’t our house. She calls it a flat, because it is. And no-one walks down our little street… so I don’t need to bark so much.
We did have a problem with sparrows last year, but I sorted them out. They wanted to nest in the roof and one cock-sparrow would sit there and look at me, chirping, all day! I was obliged to have words with him about that…till he got a missus and they had babies. He was too busy then.
“It’s only a sparrow, girlie!” she kept saying. “I like sparrows.” Well, so she might…but she just doesn’t seem to understand. I am just doing my duty, keeping her safe. You never know…especially with sparrows…
It started with just one at the other place too…then there were forty and more, all living in the honeysuckle hedge! It was all I could do to keep up! She said I was a daft dog and that one or forty didn’t matter…they were all nice. She has some weird tastes that two-legs of mine. The racket those birds made, twittering about nests, worms and sunrises every morning! It’s not as if they are capable of holding an interesting conversation. It was a real noise! “…but I like it,” she says. And then, as soon as I barked at them to ask them to keep it down, “Shh,” she says. Inconsistent, that’s what she is…
But this year, we have trouble. I looked up at the window of the upstairs flat….that’s when I saw it. Well, straight away, I went into protecting mode… after all, she was just inside the door! “Shh,” she says, “it’s just a sparrow.” She obviously wasn’t paying attention. She knows my sparrow bark. And that wasn’t it.
I was obliged to resort to The Growl… the low growl that says there is a real threat. “What’s up, whirly girl?” she says…and she finally came out to have a look.
A cat. That’s what’s ‘up’. Up there, in the window above ours, looking down, all
supersillyous snarky. It didn’t even move. Just looked at me. When did that arrive? It wasn’t there before… I would definitely have noticed.
Now it looks at me every day. They leave the blind up so it can look out. It sits there, all black and white, looking really pleased with itself. And she says I have to learn to get along with it! It’s bad enough having the little dog next door that won’t speak. To be fair, we can’t see each other over the fence. I’ve tried, but it must be too small to get its paws on the fence…and as we are both well-mannered, we can’t really speak till we’ve been introduced.
Hrmph. She seems to find the idea of me being well-mannered funny for some reason. There’s no call for that amount of laughter…
I tell you, she just doesn’t understand me.
So any way, that’s how things stand. A stand-off. I growl, it smirks. Unless Upstairs Cat gets a cat-flap. Then things might get interesting…
But she says I have to live and let live… and that just because Upstairs Cat is different from me, it doesn’t mean it isn’t doing its job. She says we should make friends! She says that even if it’s different it is still loved by its two-legses and that I have to behave.
I’ve said it before…she has some weird ideas… Me? Behave?
Ah well, she’s always been an optimist 😉