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At the risk of sounding like a world-weary elder from a remote forest tribe, what a relief it was when the rains came. I was starting to think it would never rain again. 

Obviously I couldn’t be more delighted that our poor, parched plants and trees have been watered, and that our filthy streets had the good wash that they desperately needed. However, one thing that I didn’t quite bargain for is that this weather seems to have reignited Louis Catorze’s feud with the parakeets.

During our many summer heatwaves, Catorze spent a lot of time outside. However, because he tended to be well out of sight, sleeping in the shrubbery or under the tarpaulin cover of Cat Daddy’s outdoor bike, he probably didn’t bother the birds too much. When he was asleep on the outdoor sofa, in plain sight, clearly he wasn’t that much of a threat to them.

However, during storms, when Catorze is resting on his plinth underneath the outdoor table, he doesn’t sleep. He is very much awake and alert, ears upright, listening to the rainfall around him. And that, I imagine, is far more bothersome to the birds than an apex predator who appears to be unconscious or dead. 

The parakeets are not happy about the new, vigilant Catorze. I found this out by hearing the God-awful screeching one morning and, when I went to investigate, there was an ARMY of them assembled on the telegraph wires at The Back, all glaring down at him. 

There were no parakeets – in fact, no birds whatsoever – on the wires overlooking any of our neighbouring houses. Yes, I did actually go to an upper floor window to look. 

Most of them flew away when I approached, but this handful of hardcore ultras remained behind to keep shouting abuse at Catorze. Oh dear. I hope this isn’t going to be the start of something unpleasant. 

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