I wasn't asking for trouble. I was simply dead-heading the daffodils - there was this peculiar swishing noise through the daffodil undergrowth, a thudding sound and wham - Ollie was sitting on the bent-over section of my upper back.

I tried to stand up. Forget it - the cat clung on with ferocious intensity. I tried bending further forward hoping he'd clamber onto my shoulder. Forget it. He turned around and progressed down towards my waist. I reached around blindly and tried plucking him off. Forget it. He clung tighter. The pain - the pain!!

There was only one thing to do. I had to get down on the ground and roll him off (after all, the cat knows all about rolling humans).

It wasn't even easy rolling him off - he simply regarded it as a part of the game and leapt on my stomach.

Later, as I mopped the blood off my back I wondered about the cat. For some time I've noticed Ollie watching me when I stooped over. He's had a suspicious look on his face I'm sure you know what I mean. The head cocked to one side, eyes glittering and the trembling which warns of the pounce. Was it spring fever? Was this alarming new prank to be practised every time I bent over. Watch this space.

Copyright © Beverley Dunlop
August 30, 2000