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?