Letting a fly out and inhaling the autumn smell of a bonfire, then leaving the window open to fill the house with the smell and memories.
Drifting off to another place while 2 friends moan about same bonfire. ('spect when I hit menopause proper, I too will be a grumpy old woman, Oh gawd).
He opens the bag. "last time you dealt with one of those, you and the cat fought over it, much swearing ensued from both parties, I seem to remember". He hangs it up complete with webbed feet and bill still in its bag, while we consider what to do. Later we find that black cat has made a decision and started plucking it for us. And there was us thinking it was out of reach.
Bit oft that
Some decisions are harder than others
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Cats .... drive you mad. I woke up with my Pussy Morris on my head, paw in my eye.
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