Just a short note. You may have noticed my propensity for mentioning slugs and snails. In fact, I believe doing so will strengthen my claim to be part of the great family of English / British gardeners. After all, this island could well be renamed Slugland. One of my first posts on this blog was dedicated to the little creatures (here). But truth be said, I do not hate them. Over the years, I have given up on the more cruel ways to get rid of them and have now come to the conclusion that one has to share (up to a certain point). So there we are : slugs and snails are not my number one enemy on this little plot of land. Indeed, there are creatures I dislike more than them, for instance aphids (brrrrr…). As for the creature I loathe above all others… It isn’t a critter, nor a blind slimy wriggly thing from the depths of hell, no : it is a soft, furry, white-pawed and gracious looking mammal, the likes of which you find colonising your Facebook feed if you happen to have befriended missionaries of the cute therapy cult (there are an awful lot of them), j’ai nommé THE NEIGHBOUR’S CAT(S). The reasons for its election as supreme Suppôt de Satan ? They can be summed up very quickly : it soils, it kills needlessly, it taunts. It is the ugly face of domesticated nature. It also knows very well what to make of my threats and pressing invitations to visit my oven. None of the devices I have invested in, in order to keep it at bay, have had any effect. In a nutshell, the feline Foe teaches me about powerlessness and, in time, maybe, about humility. Meanwhile, I still dream of waving the water hose at it. Shoo !