Gingephobia!

Early(ish) this morning I had to rush outside in my jimjams to rescue Austin from the outstretched claws of Big Ginge!! I think it must be a racial thing I really do. No other ethnic subgroup has quite this effect on our young hero. First I heard the subliminal growl, then the increasing cacophony of screeching until it reached a deafening crescendo of caterwauling. I made it to the window just in time to catch Austin's tail-turned-brush disappearing round the corner down below and Big Ginge's ample furry bod waddling across the garden up above.

It'd been so long since I'd caught even a glimpse of Big Ginge, I'd consoled both myself and Austin with the belief that he'd been elevated to the great catnip patch in the sky. But no! Now much as I love all felines of the domestic persuasion, any that wish to thwart the progress of Austin the KewlKat has to contend with Big MommaKat! So, as I saw Austin hurtle around the corner back into view again, I opened the window, he leapt through, I closed window, he lay growling and panting in a heap, I stood yowling and panting in a heap (while inspecting claw-shaped hole in foot). It was a seamless military manoeuvre. A good while later, after I'd clothed myself and tended the wound, I found him wedged and skulking at the back of the summerhouse (glorified shed really).

Not a happy bunny. No doubt he is, at this moment, telling his story to Tigger (every little detail, except the bit where I rescued him, of course). They can be found most days, sunning themselves, one on each of the comfy chairs, in that very same summerhouse. You will, of course, understand that as the incident unfolded I was unable to catch it on camera, so Austin, the ham that he is, obliged by reenacting the leaping through the window bit for posterity.

I believe he has now entered in to negotiations with Simon Cowell for a DVD and nationwide tour!