At first, I thought it was only the dog making noise, but when I went to investigate, I saw that it was something more. He barked at anything; the pigeon, our neighbour’s cat, and a leaf falling off the apple tree outside. We learnt to zone out his yelping, but he wouldn’t quit.
Armed with a slipper I crept downstairs, and Scamp, still barking, followed me down. The light turned on, I looked around the front room. It was all clear, apart from my cat looking a bit sheepish and our budgie, without any head.
‘Woof, woof,’ Scamp says, behind me.
We should have listened to his barking, and the cat stared at Bobby before he dashed through my legs, and away from the room. Scamp stopped barking, and I stroked him.
‘Next time we will listen to you buddy,’ I say.
This is a job for my husband, there is no way I can pick up this dead bird. I would have the difficult job of telling my children. They would be devastated, but we couldn’t be too angry with our cat.
She would be in the dog house for a while, but it is in their nature.