Remember the Alamo

Once upon a long ago Martha decided to turn the kitchen into a greenhouse.

As you are aware, when Martha gets an idea in her head it has to be acted upon immediately . As a result she didn't think about Fing when she covered the entire side in newly potted pot plants. She didn't think about the bag of compost left incautiously undone on the top. She didn't stop to consider the box of cat biscuits in the middle of everything, surrounded by a sea of seedlings. No.

She didn't pause for a moment to consider my boy, watching with a malevolent eye from the dishwasher. She forgot my boys obsessions and his naughtyness and unwisely walked away. She left him looking with longing at his beloved biscuits trapped by unknown things, almost a million miles from his touch. Almost, No.

He set out to upset her, as afterall he was upset. He landed in the seedlings and then scattered them with his paws. He knocked over his biscuits and pushed them off the side. He found the incautious compost and threw it to the floor. Then he took his malevolent mind and lept down and mixed everything up as if he was making a cake. He made a mound of compost and did a great big poo like a cherry on top before upsetting the water bowl and walking mud all over the house.

He considered it a job well done, then started on the brandy.