shrimping

Ron went walkabout yesterday for the first time ever, and we’d forgotten what a worry it is.

Being the Greediest Cat in the World, he is generally first in line when the tin is opened, with sharpened elbows at the ready to make sure nobody gets there in front of him.  So when Henry had been complaining in some detail about the lack of supper, and Ron didn’t show up, we asked ourselves when and where we’d last seen him.  And we weren’t sure, but we knew it was some hours previously.

We told ourselves, of course, that he’s quite able to look after himself, that he can find his way home from the front of the house, that he’d be absolutely fine.  But it didn’t stop us worrying a *lot* until he strolled in at about 9 p.m, showing no signs of remorse whatsoever.

Wretched beast.