Now I don’t go outside much these days, especially when we experience long stretches of hot weather (46C and me with a fur coat!) and I don’t care much for rain either, on the odd occasion when it grudgingly appears, but this is too much! I’m locked in the house.
There is a stranger in my yard!
I don’t like this stupid thing in my space. To be brutally honest. I hate ducks.
What good is a duck? You can’t converse with it, you can’t curl up for a nap with it, you can’t collaborate with it to open the fridge, you just can’t make friends with it. And you can’t eat it either.
I swear she spends more time chopping up fruit and stuff to feed this interloper than she does in preparing my meals.
The woman is also protective of this uninvited guest. Just the other day I was curled up peacefully on my chair on the porch when the stupid thing waddled past. I would have treated it with the bored indifference it deserves but, before I could give a hearty sneer, the rude thing stared straight at me and gave out a long, grating, honking, horrible noise which made all my fur stand up.
The woman was there in two ticks and scooped me up. Me! I’d done nothing. Next thing you know, I’m locked inside and I’ve been in here ever since. No punishment for the duck for disturbing my comfort!
It’s a sad state of affairs.