Neil can not understand the stick fascination.
I don’t have the heart to tell him that HE is the stick fascination; we’ve (thanks Silva!) just trained Nicks to replace little twitchy animals with The Stick.
Neil has finally accepted this new lanky, muscular cat which has moved in may have some advantages.
He’s now spending more days down the back with us playing stick, and not being scared of those barking dogs. Or cats. These days, no strange cats seem to visit and hiss at Neil…
Here he did realise he was possibly going too far, venturing out into no-mans-land during daylight, while Nicks and I stopped at my back fence.
One big difference is when playing stick, Neil loses interest after the first throw, whereas Nicks is always keen to “go again”.
She does lie down for a few breaks now though, since it’s getting hot.
And gets distracted with her own private digging projects.
Does everything get rusty-coloured as it ages?
Maybe the vital greens and reds are left for the young?
“You can take your mightily impressive whooshy tail and…”
She’s all like I have no idea, will you throw the ball left or right, left or right, surprise me…