Oberon goes walkabout most evenings for two or three hours.
Having watched the programme Secret Life of Cats some time ago it comes as no surprise that he ranges some distance. I have no idea where he goes other than passing through a friend’s garden heading out toward the farmland beyond the edge of town.
Tonight he came in smelling strongly of rust.
An odd thing for a cat to smell of it has to be said. I mean rust? He is not a cat prone to a great deal of grooming, but neither is he fond of getting wet and/or mucky, so where and why would he be prowling somewhere that had to be damp and messy to have such a strong odour.
Of such things stories are made, or so my muse assure me.
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