Rambling through the mud
Stan had enjoyed being fussed over by the two women
but now he was feeling better he decided to take Emile for a walk.
They set off down a little track leading into a wood behind their house
.Emile would never go to the wood alone as it seemed very big to a cat.
But Stan wore a red anorak which we assume Emile can see quite well
.Emile gambolled around the trees like a lamb,even running up one or two tree trunks which is behaviour rarely seen in lambs even in hot weather.
Though it may occurr in a place like Tasmania…
one can’t be sure it doesn’t happen at all.
Thus Stan mused to himself as he wandered along between the autumn trees and shrubs
.I wonder what the odds are of me ever seeing a lamb run up a tree,he pondered
Men always like to think of serious problems such as this, unlike women who think about the curtains and the bed linen and other mundane realities.
I wonder if I can look it up on Google, he thought.But even if it has happened in New Zealand it’s
much too far for me to go to look.Rather expensive too,no doubt.
Emile walked into a muddy pool,rolled over and came out all brown and filthy.
Really Emile,you are 5 years old now.Can’t you take care?Your coat is all muddy
.Never mind, said Emile,I’ll lick it all off later.
No,you won’t said Stan,It’s about time you had a bath.
Emile murmured jubilantly
I think I’m too dirty to go in the bath,can’t I just have a wash in a big plastic bowl?
Well,economy is good sometimes,replied Stan absentmindedly.
You can bathe in the old jam saucepan,that’s nice size.
But you won’t put me on the stove and boil me,Emile taunted him gently.
Well,it’s different.One can love in many ways.In theory at least.
As you grow older your heart grows larger and you can keep more creatures in there,sheltering
cosily in your bosom.
I thought only ladies had bosoms,Emile purred.
Have I got a bosom,Emile enquired succinctly
Do you love anyone?
Yes,I love you and Mary ,Annie,the milkman,the postman and the lady cat down the road.
Well in that case Emile,you definitely have a bosom, Stan answered confusedly.What ever will Emile ask me next ,he wondered.I don’t know if I can keep up with his development.
And so they rambled on in the last warm day of summer.
They ate some jam and tomato sandwiches which Dave the paramedic
had made for them.Emile loves sandwiches and tea from a flask.
Soon the sun began to sink,so they turned round
and wandered paw in hand back to their home
“The Pilchards” in a suburb of Knittingham near Nottingham,UK,
by learning to read the Tarot
the gorgeous widow Annie whose clothes are a site for sore eyes
..at least that’s what I believe.But I’m only the author.What do I know?