Zzzz....

This baby otter has got to go home. He kept me up all night wanting me to read 'Wind in the Willows.' And the smell of fish is getting on my nerves! So tired...must have a nap...zzzzzzz

A material witness

Still hot on the trail of the phantom fishnapper. I flew down to the llama colony by the M6 toll road (current population 33 1/2) to see what the word on the streets is. Lynnette Llama here reckoned it was some guy in a monkey suit who stole the otter's grub! The plot thickens...

Lost!

I was just settling down to watch 'The Apprentice' last night (I want to pick up some tips for controlling my henchpigeons.) I'd made a nice big stack of fish finger butties (with peas.) While I was looking round for the telly remote, this blighter sneaked up inside my nest and scoffed the lot! I got cross and gave him a peck, when he started blubbing, saying he'd lost his Mummy. He chased after some guy in a black-and-white suit who pinched HIS fish supper, and couldn't find his way home again. I got us a chippy tea to cheer us both up, but blimey - he's a really messy eater. I'm still picking bits of fish out from behind my ears (difficult when you're a pigeon.) How can I maintain my gangster image when I end up babysitting a constant stream of stray animals?
Now I have to turn detective. Where does Ollie Otter live? And who nicked his fish supper?

Same old

Back to the grind. Me and my bird ain't speaking again. Doris refused to share her last Rolo with me. I pointed out that she couldn't really be my lovebird if she hogged it to herself. THEN she started going on and ON about some book by Gillian McTweet called 'You are what you Gobble' and pointed out (with unnecessary relish I might add) that if the Health Fascist is correct, then I'm actually a kingsize burger, mega kebab and extra large pizza with millet to go.
I said someone munching a packet of Rolos all by herself has no right to adopt the high moral ground. So there!
She'll be putting me on a diet next...

Bird flew

It's getting a bit scary round here with all these rumours about bird flu, so I'm off for a long weekend with Doris Budgie. Don't worry though, I'll be back in time for the Easter Egg feast!

Bad Karma

Coo, it was bloomin’ windy this week. A sudden huge gust blew me right off my nest! Luckily Tiddles Clutterbuck was lurking under my tree, so I had a nice soft landing. He’s OK, though - just used up one of his nine lives.
This got me thinking. How come flippin’ moggies get nine lives dished out to them? Of course, there must be a nice cat here and there like Paws, but the sad fact is that the vast majority of cats were obviously serial killers in a previous life.
Funny thing, reincarnation. It must have caused no end of confusion back in the Jurassic era. Just imagine, one minute you’re a T. Rex, or even a spinosaurus, lord of all you survey, then before you can say ‘mass extinction,’ POW! the comet hits. Then next thing you know you’re a shrew, and your world view is limited to bugs and worms.
I suppose there might be some kind of similarity, though, in what kind of critter you get reincarnated as. A shark might come back as an estate agent (or vice versa.) Or if you’re a wool bearing animal, and haven’t been able to get up to much mischief, you wake up in another field. This might not be jammy, though. In one life you’re a sheep, happily grazing in your field, dreaming about the hidden vistas on the other side of the hedge. Then you get reincarnated as a llama. At last you can see over the hedge! But instead of green fields and valleys, you have a lovely view of the M6 toll road.
So, reincarnation ain’t all it’s cracked up to be (unless you come back as a millionaire, of course.)
And what, you may ask, was a certain giant pigeon in his previous life?
Just don’t call me Scarface…