Jan 25th, 2020
In honour of Burns night, Tora bought R a bottle of whisky with one of his favourite things on the lable.
Here is the poem the cats wrote about it last year. Sadly nostalgic as it is coming up for a year since Schrodi died.
Wee Sleeket cowran tim’rous beastie
How we’d love to catch and eat you.
If I were you I set off hasty
Wi’ bickering brattle
For we’d be on to rin an’ chase thee
Wi’ murd’ring prattle!
We truly have no sorrow for you
We do the things we that we are made for
God gave us claws and teeth to catch you
And make thee startle
Hard luck to thee earth-born companion
And fellow mortal
Though Mousie, thou art no alane
In proving foresight may be vain
The best laid schemes o’ cats it’s true
Gang aft agley
And left us naught but grief and pain
You got away.