Garden party and Lucy Pussy’s first kill

It is the morning of the Rectory Garden Party, an annual event where over 20 members of the congregation gather to sit in the sun and nibble on egg sandwiches and freshly made gingerbread.  Of course today it is raining and as they are never known to let something like bad weather spoil their fun, the Rector is frantically tidying the house and wondering how many chairs one can fit into a very small space.

Today is also the day of Lucy Pussy’s first kill.  The massacre took place on the lawn and then continued through the open window, through the newly Hetty’d lounge (Hetty is pink version of Henry Hoover), past Son #1’s screaming girlfriend in the hall, and up the newly polished stairs. At this point the half dead pigeon broke free and flew over the newly laundered table cloth on said table, and up the venetian blinds spewing feathers and blood everywhere. Son #1 kindly captured the bleeding pigeon in a bucket and it has now flown off as far as its one wing would take it. Lucy Pussy is pretty cheesed off that her lunch has been removed before she’d even got to the innards properly and is making her protest known by mewing loudly.

The garden looks like a duvet burst.

And they arrive in an hour or so.


13 thoughts on “Garden party and Lucy Pussy’s first kill

  1. This reminds me of the dead bird birthday present incident that happened many many years ago to me. My mother had to deal with around 10 traumatised children at my birthday party when our cat Tiger decided to present me with her latest kill as a birthday present.

  2. Oh RUTH…There was the dead rat left at the bedside on my wedding morning (probably the cat was trying to tell me something but I was oblivious). Heartfelt sympathies…and gratitude for lifting the “wet weekend in the Cotswolds” gloom that has descended on the vicarage today. Do hope myopia is the order of teh day for your guests, and that the sun shines indoors at least.

  3. Oh dear! Perhaps she will learn to eat her prey out of sight and only throw up the indegestible portions when the congregation are out of sight?

  4. No, Ruth, just think of it as next chapter of sermon. Lucy Pussy/we are horrible and kill things (and we don’t even want to eat them). God forgives us.

    Baby rabbits are the most distressing I think..

    And could Kathyn tell us whether she married the rat despite the cat’s warning?

  5. Curlews, gorgeous dappled golden/white/brown/flecked curlews that sit in one’s paw like a bag of flour with their beaks half as long again, and are stupid enough to fly straight into the dog’s mouth a second time, needing euthanized, are the worst.

  6. Oh Lucy Pussy! If life is a tapestry Ruth you can embroider a single winged bird on to yours! Maybe it was Lucy Pussy’s way of letting you know the afternoon couldn’t get any worse!!! Hope you all had a lovely time 🙂

  7. One Christmas I came home from Midnight Mass to find my darling Albert waiting for me with an enormous dead rat – presumably his idea of a really lovely Christmas present!

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