Winter sports

This morning I noticed that Omar had settled into her hibernation spot. The temperature was noticeably colder - it's coat weather now. Then, this evening, Whisky brought in his second mouse in a week. This one, though, had passed away by the time I got to her. There's not a mark on her, so I suspect a heart attack. Poor thing. Mice being caught is a sign of the winter months for us. Whisky's useless at catching them in summer.

Still, it's another marked improvement in Whisky's health. I haven't been blipping this past week, so no one in blipland has been aware of my worries over the cat. Fred came in from work on Monday and found clumps of black fur all over the kitchen. Whisky, meanwhile, wasn't shutting his mouth fully and was out of sorts. He didn't want to come near us but, thankfully, he was eating and drinking. Over the course of the week, he's improved bit by bit, enough for us to put off visiting the vet. We think he must have been clawed in his mouth by the neighbour's cat (he of the black fur). The catching of a mouse and subsequent playing is a good sign.