The Curse of the Demon Tabby

The saga continues. Last night, just as we were going to bed, we heard Charlie at the cat flap, squawling and bashing mercilessly through the plastic. Steve went down and there was the Demon Tabby - staring casually through the flap like it owned the world.

There ensued Match 2: Steve vs the Demon. It went on for a while, and involved a lot of water, and refilling of water bottles, and yells of 'Yeah? Yeah? Have THAT!' as the Tabby refused to back down. Well, it was already raining, so to be fair he probably wasn't going to let a bit more water bother him.

Eventually the Tabby decided it was time to go home, and Steve came upstairs with a manic look in his eyes.

"I need some kind of system," he said. "A bucket with a string."

(Yes, bucket-and-string contraptions are one of Steve's specialities, as anyone who heard about his mouse-catching efforts will know.)

"I KNOW!" he said, looking homicidal. "I'll fill up the kitchen compost bucket - oh, it smells so bad. And balance it on the shelf by the door - and next time it comes - whoosh!"

Cut to today. Charlie is so antsy, she just went out on the roof and then raced back in as though she was being chased by a thousand knives. Either she accidentally spilled the compost bucket (imagine a dying cabbage, then times it by six) or she has lost the plot and is convinced the Demon Tabby is seeking revenge for being drowned last night.

She's now shadowing me. I had to go upstairs and check for moggies while she cowered at the bottom; then I had to check under the bed and do an extra good check in the study. She is finally getting her nerve back but staying by my side for a bit.