Cars

Across the lane from our house is a stream.  Water aside it’s a great place for a Tigger.  In Summer its banks are a tangle of long grass and tall sticky weeds. Critters live there.  There’s always something to detect – a movement, a scent, the slightest sound out of patterns with breeze rustling through the foliage.

Herons wade in the stream and there is the occasional flash of a blue, blue Kingfisher.

The stream would be an idyllic place were is not for cars.

We are close to the corner of our lane with a busy road.  Cars, trucks and buses roar along there and rumble over the bridge (making the house rattle) and drown out the delight of the stream bank with all their noise and smell.  They sometime catch me out, whipping around the corner into the lane just as I am sauntering across.  I can’t say I’m proud of my reaction to that but I haven’t worked out yet how to deal with cars in my lane.

There is a car parked in our drive.  My humans won’t let me inspect the inside.  They drive it.  They back it up the drive.  They put a cover on it. 

I’m working on ripping the cover off it.  They tried putting chilli powder on it but I am undeterred.  They used to let me ride in the old car,  I want to ride in the new one.  At least let me look around the inside. 

They still let me ride in the van and I regularly inspect anything stowed in the back, so why not the nice new car? Huh?