Easter Monday afternoon found ol’ Robbo ensconced in the hammock on his back porch, reading Robert Hugh Benson’s Lord of teh World. (About which I shall certainly post when I am done.)
Suddenly, a literal cat-fight broke out to my left. I have posted here before about our two young kittehs Ginger and Fiona, now around a year old, and their elder cohabiter Bella who hates them both. Well, old Bella had managed to corner young Ginger under a chair and was going at her with tooth and nail.
Wishing to break things up quam celerrime, I went to hurl my book (a paperback, rest assured) in the general direction of the melee. Unfortunately, as I brought my right arm over and across my body, I also managed to upset the equilibrium of the hammock so that the beastly thing pitched me out good and proper. I landed rayther heavily on my knees.
The book itself hit in the general vicinity in which I’d aimed it, but I think it was the surprise at seeing Robbo flip over and go down hard that actually broke up the fight.
My knees have hurt ever since. I wouldn’t mind so much, except for the fact that Bella and Ginger had another dust-up this evening and there is much fur to clean up.
Have I mentioned the fact that although I have myself owned cats since shortly after Mrs. R and I got married (21 years ago this June) and grew up with them , I have never really liked them?