Treeson

Today my breakfast was interrupted by the sound of the cats carting a wagon full of fireworks through the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” I asked them.

“The tree pixies have invaded!” the cats cried, as they pulled the cart out into the garden.

“Are you talking about the woodpeckers again?” I wondered as I followed them through the back door.

The cats stopped the wagon behind a small barricade they had built from cardboard boxes. I looked up at the nearest tree and was alarmed to see what appeared to be a large hive constructed from green crystal.

“Oh dear,” I said. “Should I call someone in?”

“Everything is under control, human,” Smudge assured me, as he let off a rocket. The firework smashed into the hive with a musical crash and sent tiny shavings of emerald showering down around us.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said, taking a step back towards the house. “But don’t set the tree on fire, please.”

Curling

Today I arrived at the bottom of the stairs to find that the entire hallway floor was covered in a thick layer of ice.

“What..?” I asked, as Smudge came sliding slowly towards me on a curling stone.

Suddenly several highland cows came thundering past the staircase. I leaned round the banister to watch them go.

“Ok, this is probably the worst idea you’ve ever had,” I told the cat.

“We are partaking in a national game with our Scottish visitors,” Smudge explained. “It is a vital element of building relations across species and culture.”

“Right. And why does it have to happen inside the house?” I asked, flinching as one of the cows collided with the end wall.

“Might I suggest, human” Smudge said, as Treacle came spinning over with a curling shoe in her mouth, “That you pick a team? Or at the very least get out of the way and make everyone a cup of tea?”

I took the shoe tentatively. “I guess I’ll put the kettle on then.”