It’s six o’clock on a fair August evening, and the kid had been shut inside again. Arthur and Percy can hang out and ablute in peace, without fear of being pounced upon by small and enthusiastic kittens.
Freyja has had her jabs, her microchip and is allowed out (supervised as present, as she is still a mad little kitten). She has discovered that the garden is just absolutely full of fun things; Arthur is at pains to point out that he is not one of them.
It was once the site of his Ancient Hunting Grounds, but Arthur is adaptable and has therefore seen fit to oversee the building that is going up next door. Only Stan is working next door today. Arthur is familiar with Stan and he can therefore be trusted to work for a few hours unattended, unlike other strange and unfamiliar building persons. Later this evening Arthur will go on a site inspection, just to check all is as it should be.
I am multi-tasking: I am picking black currants, and I am stroking Arthur. This is not the most efficient way to pick black currants, but it makes Arthur happy.
Arthur is also multi-tasking: he is being stroked and he is also being happy. He experimented for a while with the concept of sharpening his claws on my bottom at the same time as the other activities, but my sudden surprised yelps were intended to suggest that this was taking efficiency one step too far.