That’s it! My patience is exhausted. No more Mr Nice Guy.
From now on I am officially at war with the neighbourhood cats.
See, my desk is next to the French widows, with a view a cross the scraggy lawn and the hedges. Not exactly Capability Brown, I grant you, but pleasant enough to look at on and on warm summer days, or to sit outside with the laptop pretending to work.
But the garden has of late become a short cut for the neighbourhood cats. And I don’t particularly want to sit surrounded by cat poo or the smell of cat pee.
I keep catching sight of them out of the corner of my eye, sauntering across the lawn, peeing in my flower beds. One of them I’m sure, has learned how to give me the finger.
I’m fed up of chasing them away. I’ve tried putting down that cat pepper stuff but they seem to lap up like I’ve left them a treat.
They’re a distraction and they interrupt my work. I keep forgetting where I’m up to.
- Diane C. Anastos, MPA, CPPM, Minneapolis, USA: Don’t they have litter boxes? Philip J Gwynne: The point is, they use MY GARDEN as a litter box!