Wednesday, 17 February 2016

One small boy

I have had the most frustrating day, which has only been exacerbated by a wedding taking place outside my window. I have shouted for quiet from my burrow, but the festivities are continuing, much to my chagrin. The ringleaders, as predicted, are Samuel Whiskers and Anna Maria, who have had too much to drink and are showboating. Earlier, while rearranging my bookcase, I heard them joke to Mrs. Tabitha Twitchit that they were 'available for babysitting'. Anna Maria laughed so hard she nearly soiled herself, but Mrs Twitchit, who loves to bear a grudge, remained unmoved.

I was out in the field with Benjamin looking for nettles when I let my guard down (I believe I was thinking about death at the time). A small boy - possibly one of MacGregor's grandchildren - scooped me up and carried me back to his garden. I was so taken with rage I was unable to move, which the boy wrongly interpreted as a sign of meekness. After being forced to escort him around the premises, lovingly tucked inside his shirt, he then dressed me in a bonnet and made me engage in a 'tea party' with him. The final straw was being made to parade around in a velvet housecoat; I scratched him on the face and ran off, the coat lagging behind me. I have since given it to Flopsy. It makes her look like a dowdy flannel, which has pleased me greatly. Benjamin has said he is 'sorry' for leaving me with the small boy, but I shall take my time before exacting revenge.

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