The natives are restless

The feline members of the household just adore this hot weather. Nelson sunbathes to his heart's content and sleeps even longer during the day. Goggins hides until 5pm when he takes to the front doorstep and revels in the seering heat of the late afternoon sun, stretching out his legs and luxuriating in the warm rays; even his little pink stomach, visible under the sparse white fur, gets a toasting.

Misty is like a thing or rather a cat possessed. There are so many butterflies and bees in the garden, he has to chase them all, at once. He doesn't know where to turn first. He is totally ignoring Napoleon, the hanger on who persists in returnng night after night even though he is unceremoniously carted off to his real home round the corner, time after time, after time. Misty is on a mission, to rid his territory of anything that flies. He can't reach the birds and when he does get ominously close he is outwitted and his quarry takes to the air, much to his amazement. It's like watching the three card trick, it gets him every time. How do they do that? The little cat jumps and leaps but somehow he can't quite manage it. Unperturbed he takes after something else. Periodically he will return to the house and check developments there and may be have a bite or two of food. He uses so much energy he needs enough food to fed two of my other cats.

By night, Nelson joins Misty and along with Toby their litter mate from next door they prowl the streets for moths and other things which fly by night. Misty returns with each of his catches to remove the wings behind the front door. By midnight Nelson is exhausted again and comes for his nightly cuddle, but finding my bed too hot for sleep, he has taken to lying on the smooth wood of the top of the chest. Goggins too, remains on his now cool doorsetep and guards it until morning.

Only Misty remains awake, chasing and diving and rushing around until, exhausted, he drags his weak back leg up the stairs and has a quick fight with Nelson before sleep overcomes him. An hour or so later I am awakened as he has a sleepy tussle with a wayward moth which happened in through the open window. It is nearly dawn, time for him to start his patrol again. In an hour or so he is gone, a little bang of the cat-flap at Napoleon to show that he hasn't quite forgotten him, then a whole new day to investigate.