1003

Playful

It is January in England. It is, at this time, sometimes referred to as the land of the Angles, sometimes of the Saxons or Normans, or England. It is a cold, unforgiving country in the winter. It could be called Iceland, but it isn’t.

There is unrest in this country. This will surely lead to war. It is very hard for a cat to understand the conflict. I mean, as you know, we cats only fight when our territory is threatened. But the humans have enough space to have their own territories, so why are they fighting? Or why will they fight? Guess they need some resources, food or something.

Anymews, that is the situation. It seems as if England will go to war with France and the Normans.

Do you have any idea of what this means to a cat? If you are thinking that it means food is hard to come by, you are right. Yes, mice seem to get wind of impending wars and skedaddle out of the country. So a cat has to live by his charm and knowledge of garbage. That is what I am doing.

I am pleased today because I find a hambone that has been thrown out. This will give me something to exercise my jaws on. It sure is more tasty than the bugs I have been eating. Oh, so you say you won’t eat bugs…well, what do you think lobsters are? Boy do I wish I could catch one of those… but you seldom see them in England.

Anyway, some things are good. The air is clean except when there has been a bonfire. People all know their neighbors and want to help them out in times of trouble. The water, river or pond, or even ocean, is unpolluted. And all the food is free of preservatives except for salt.

It is all so nice except that we cats often get sick from unknown diseases and we have to scavenge for our food. Most of us die before our first year. I am one of the lucky ones. I have lived to the ripe old age of 6. I hope to live to be 10, and that is what life is like now.

It is a new millennium. I wonder what kind of changes this will bring. I can’t imagine that things will ever change too much.