THE LIFE AND TIMES OF A RUBBISH BIN CAT – PART 3
. . .And so began the Sunday evening round up ritual. Sonny
had found lots of places to hide. Each time we found him, he went to jail –
locked in the back bedroom for the night with food, water and a litter-tray,
our ears closed to his mournful yowling, and each Sunday, a new hiding place. I
will say one thing for Sonny, he was one determined, inventive and cunning cat.
Sonny never got into our rubbish, but then there
never was any food in it. We recycled everything. All food scraps went to
either the chickens, the compost or the worm farm. As for the holiday home
weekenders, leftover food went into the bin when they left. For Sonny, the
takings were plenty and I guess his nose told him which bin to raid.
Sadly, the Rubbish Bin Cat died of heart failure
in 2016. He was 16 years old and remembered with affection. And now he is
immortalized in my book!
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