Last night we were presented with our first gift from Luna our usually lazy madam who prefers the comfort of the underfloor heating in the bathroom to the great outdoors.

She does go out, usually at night. She wanders through at exactly the moment whatever we’re watching on the telly is reaching a critical point and claws at the door at the bottom of the stairs. One of us has to get up and open it before she makes more of a mess of the door thus spoiling the emotional atmosphere the drama is trying to portray.
She likes to slip through my bedroom window and over the roof. She then reappears sometime in the night, landing with an enormous thud on the wooden floor and waking me up. I know it’s the cat and not a burglar because no self-respecting burglar would make such a noise.
She came back early last night, and I could hear scrabbling on the stairs so opened the door before she tore the carpet to shreds. It’s new and supposed to be my forever carpet. There on the bottom step was a gift.

Fortunately for me – not the gift – it was dead.
It was late and dark, and I wasn’t up to chasing said gift around the house while it’s packed to the gunnels with other people’s stuff.
I’m afraid I didn’t give it a decent burial, just a quick one.
The cat was not impressed.