The days are brighter and the weather warmer as we enter the first days of June. Throughout the winter months, Alfie and Polly's activity has been relatively quiet. Neither of them has caught a bird or mouse in the garden and brought it through the cat flap where it would meet its untimely fate. Their intention is to play and ultimately terrorise the poor creature to death. It has been a relief to come downstairs in the early morning and not see a dead bird and its feathers scattered all over the hall and living room carpet, or see a mouse lying lifeless on the floor with blood oozing from its body. I am not squeamish, but occasionally, after cleaning up this unsightly mess, it has put me off treating myself to a hearty breakfast consisting of sausage, bacon, baked beans, egg, and toast, then washed down with a delicious hot cup of cappuccino.
Yesterday I returned home around noon, after taking a leisurely drive to Burgess Hill. Burgess Hill is another seaside town approximately 9 miles north of Brighton. During my walkabout, I got caught up in a heavy downpour of rain. Thankfully, I had my trusted umbrella, so I was protected from the inclement weather. One of the first things I learnt when moving from London to the South coast of England was to always have an umbrella or wear a coat with a hood, as it rains a lot here. Opening my front door, I heard an all mighty commotion coming from the living room and rushed to see what it was. Standing at the doorway, I saw Alfie and Polly sitting poised, staring up at a painting on the wall. Their tails moved frantically from side to side, ready to pounce.
Their focus wasn't fixed on the painting, but rather on the small bird perched on top of the gold gilding frame that surrounded the picture. I wanted to capture the moment with my phone, before catching the bird in a net that I bought for this purpose, to enable its safe release outside. However, as I withdrew the phone from my pocket, the bird must have sensed the front door was open as a cool draft flowed into the room. In one clean swoop, the bird took off, making a quick escape from the room and out through the front door. Alfie and Polly could only look on in obvious disappointment.
After closing the front door, I turned to notice that my sofa cushions in my Hi-Fi room were scattered on the floor. As I entered the room, the reason became apparent. A dead bird with its feathers torn from its body was lying near one of my ProAc speakers.
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