Walking back up from the gate where I'd been depositing the recycling, I saw a small grass snake wriggling determinedly across the gravel towards the centre of the turning circle. It was instantly identifiable as a grass snake by the bright yellow flash on its head. Seeing me, it turned and slithered under the skirts of the Pileostegia viburnoides that is supposed to be growing up the house, but also seems more interested in making a break for the turning circle. The snake was larger than the clutch of recently hatched babies I uncovered when I was turning the compost heap a couple of years ago, but considerably smaller than a fully grown adult. It's strange that I've twice found evidence of them breeding in the compost, once discovering the actual young and the other time merely finding the empty pods, but the only other times I've seen snakes has been at that corner of the house. It's a fair way from the compost bin, so why do they end up there? Maybe the combination of the patio (for basking) and long grass in the daffodil lawn (for hunting and cover) is irresistible.
Our Ginger saw something moving and disappearing into the evergreen, and came bustling over to investigate. I didn't know what he would do with a snake if he found it, but didn't want him to kill it so bundled him indoors and distracted him with a couple of chicken chewies. They appear to be a sort of hypoallergenic (according to the packet) chicken flavoured biltong for cats, and I only bought them as a substitute because the Clacton garden centre didn't have any Thomas Treats and the man there said they'd tried ordering more but the wholesaler hadn't sent them. I bought the chicken chewies as a stop gap measure, though I was worried about what the short indignant tabby would think about a change in her routine.
The short indignant tabby gets four Thomas Treats every morning after she has eaten her breakfast. The ritual started because we realised that the other cats got treats to cheer them up when they'd been to the vet or had to put up with some sort of medical intervention, and the short indignant tabby was such a good doer that she never needed any pills or vet trips, so never got any sweeties. We agreed it was unfair that she should miss out, and so the post breakfast treats regime began. After she has eaten as much tinned food as she fancies at breakfast time, she sits in front of the cupboard where the treats are kept and wails imperiously. Once she has had her treats she stops wailing, but starts again if the Systems Administrator comes into the kitchen, when she will shriek at the SA to try and extract a second helping. She only expects Thomas Treats after breakfast, and seems to understand that the same person will not dispense treats twice on the same day, but has not grasped that we humans communicate in language and each can tell the other when she's already had her lot.
The chicken chewies are a big hit, and both cats have spent some time sitting in front of the cupboard, willing the door to open and the chewies to come out. The full name on the packet is Armitage Good Girl Kitty-Delishy Chicken Bites, if you are looking for an addictive morsel for your own cat. I used not to believe that pet treats worked, then a couple of our vets started dishing them out after injections so I thought they must have more to them than simple cat biscuits, and then a friend gave us a packet of Thomas Treats for Our Ginger as a joke, and they proved a great success, but the chicken chewies might be even more popular. Certainly by the time Our Ginger had eaten a couple he had forgotten all about snake hunting, and just sat in the kitchen looking at me.
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