Before we left for Greece the two water meadows next to the Welsh Hovel on the banks of the River Dee were five or six foor high with grass and wild plants. Notwithstanding this I used to wade through the grass towards the bridge that takes you to England and Joshua’s nursery. And one of our two cats, Quincey, would try to follow me but after about 100 yards he would give up.
While we were in Greece we had the meadows mowed and thus as I headed off towards the Bridge and a visit to see my GP in England on Monday, Quincey followed. Repeatedly I’d pick him up, turn him arounds and say shoo, shoo. He’d wander a few yards and then turn around and follow me. At the end of the second field, about 800 yards from the hovel the nettles and other weeds grow tall as we leave our land. Quincey seemed stuck and as I headed off to England I heard a distant miaowing. I assumed that after seeing the GP, picking up my scrip and having a coffee Quincey would have seen sense and headed home. I was wrong.
Two hours after our parting, I returned to the wild and thick hedgerow that is the boundary of our land and heard the sound of a cat, clearly lost. In due course Quincey came into view and allowed himself to be carried across the smaller field before skipping home across the larger one. He is loyal and adventurous but not the brightest cat in Wales.
Below: a cat, a cat in a field and the view from the far side of the big field, the hovel is behind the trees.
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