The garden chairs are wet and so is the garden table where I spend the summer in the sun. The sparrows fly around my head feeding from their swinging food stations. I see the mice under the honesty plants catching scraps from the bird feeders above. I can’t stay out there in the wet and cold so I sit inside the glass door and watch the sparrows queueing up to have a turn in the bath my human has suspended high up so I can’t get at it. I must bring a mouse in – trouble is, they don’t want to play.
Black Cat Stan 