We live in an urban jungle here – (biggish) Victorian terraced houses, with alleys and runs between the back yards. The spotty boys have found it hard to settle into this new environment, and Iggy in particular is not very happy with his lot; he’s never liked change, and this was hard for a 13 year old chap to bear.
He’s making it his home, though – I’ve just spent five minutes watching him through the window, while he decided where he wanted to go. He was sitting on a wall, preparatory to jumping onto a flat roofed extension, and it was fascinating how he looked, judged, then moved backward a smidge, rinse and repeat, until the distance was perfectly judged and he leapt, landing light pawed on the roof.
He didn’t stay there long, probably because the window was closed (none of the Tribe have ever been particular about whose house they visit, or indeed eat in), so he moved along to the next roof, and did the same thing before landing on someone’s shed.
We can observe a fair bit of the secret life of the neighbourhood cats from up here – it’s endlessly fascinating.
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