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Nature

I come down stairs, yawning, and rustle up coffee for Liz and me. The cat
rubs round my ankles so I pour him fresh water while telling my Kindle to
download the paper. Through the window the morning vapour is paling a
cloudless blue sky. Transatlantic jets trace countless lines of white cirrus.
The cat is back at my ankles so I rattle some biscuits onto his plate. The
morning sun casts long shadows across the garden as I scatter a few
Dreamy Treats on the moggies breakfast. Outside, the trees in the copse
and distant woods are clad in thick fresh coats of early summer green. I
add a handful of Hairball medication to the cats breakfast so he wont feel
the need to eat grass and spew on the carpet. In the world beyond,
blackbird is singing in his tree. Swifts dart after invisible insects. I scoop
the cat from the floor and give him his dose of Metacam to ease his
arthritis. A crow, perched on a chimney, eyes the world through beady
eyes. I pop a pill into the cats mouth to control his heart condition. A
couple of magpies skulk round the gardens, up to no good. The cat picks
at his breakfast. The rooks have left their home in the trees and headed
for the fields. Branches sway lazy in the breeze that flickers leaves among
the shrubs. The cat makes for the door and stands like a pointer. I pick
him up and rub sunblock on the bare skin of his nose and ears so he
wont burn. I open the door and gulp the morning air. The cat shoots past
and rips the throat out of a sparrow that was foraging on the lawn. I close
the door and read crap in the paper.