Mon jardin est ton jardin

After a whole morning and a whole afternoon of bending, twisting, swearing, smashing glass and wanting to slash at our own flesh with the broken bits, Cat Daddy and I finally finished assembling the garden furniture. (We were told that it “would bolt together easily”. It did not. Never believe anyone who tells you such rubbish.)

We had a feeling that, before we would have the chance to try it out, a cat would get there first. However, we didn’t expect THIS:

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Cat Daddy’s response was, “At least he did it before we’d put the cushions on.” I say a cheeky sod is a cheeky sod, irrespective of whether his arse is cushioned.

I wonder if there is such a thing as a world record for the greatest sum of money ever spent on a cat tree for someone else’s cat? Ginger Impinger would like to start the bidding at £1199.

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5 thoughts on “Mon jardin est ton jardin

  1. The GI has found a home…perhaps a second/vacation home, or a refuge from his own home filled with yappy dogs. He likes that Oscar is (mostly) contained and thinks that’s as it should be. So perhaps fill out the adoption papers? With the stipulation that he will not be getting a chip for opening the cat door. I’d love to see that agreement on paper and signed by all parties with a nice ink pad paw print from the GI. xo

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    1. A vacation home! I almost feel bad for him! I don’t mind him being around as he & Le Roi seem to coexist happily, but his jingle bells (& their potential for spraying) worry me. I don’t want our furniture covered in cat pee! 🙀

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