Spring? Is it too much to hope?

It seems as though it's been ages since we last had a day where it didn't rain. For months, everyday was a wet day and fields had turned into 'ponds' that covered hectares. In fact it's only in the last few days that some fields are once again visible, but water is still running away in torrents and the ground continues to feel more like you're trying to negotiate a swamp.

Last year at this time, they had one night where eighteen inches of snow fell overnight, but it looks (touch wood) as though we will escape that this year, as since Thursday of last week, not only has it been dry, but sunny too. Granted the nights, or at least from sundown onwards are damned cold, but that seems a small price to pay for some good weather after literally months of absolute crap.

Does that mean that spring has sprung?

Well, frankly I think it's too soon to tell for sure, but we've been taking advantage of the sunshine while we can getting out and about and in the garden ... with Biscuit.

Under the strictest supervision, we let our kitty-cat out into the unknown territory that is our napkin of a garden, for the very first time, marveling at how nutty he went at all the new sights, sounds and smells, not to mention the new textures, bugs, bits of dust, leaves and especially, shadows.

We sat on the bench as he gamboled and frolicked, sprinting with utter abandon from the kitchen door, up the garden and into the garage at the other end, making contented 'prooping' noises all the way.

It was nice to see him so happy.

Yesterday, we returned from a lovely, sunny walk to have tea in the garden and Biscuit once again gamboled and frolicked happily.

Monday however, it was a different story.

It appears that our cat is not content to simply bimble around in the space we have, but already wants more. Today, it was all we could do to stop him from leaping up and over our garden wall and getting out into the big, wide world outside.

He was driving me mental as I had work to do in the garage and was running back and forth between it and the house. Everything took twice as long as it should, as I only had to approach the door and there was Biscuit, squirming through between my legs and out into the garden.

The first couple of times this happened, I was able to see the funny side. Thereafter however, I began losing patience. Once, I left him in the shop at the other end of the house and immediately I opened the back door, he shot past me and down the garden path in a blur of fur and paws. He very quickly got wise to being  collected and returned to the house, so it became more difficult to catch on each occasion.

This I fear will only worsen.

I wouldn't mind so much if it weren't for the fact that I had to keep a watchful eye on him ... at all times.

It's true our village isn't big or busy, but there is a through-road that leads from Mantilly to Domfront with traffic that doesn't appear to notice our little village and hacks through at breakneck speed, putting our darling little bundle of curiosity at severe risk. Even the slower moving cars and trucks that pass through the little lane outside our front door wouldn't take the least bit of notice of a little ginger cat and we're afraid that it wouldn't be long before Biscuit was no more than a small orange pancake.

So we cannot let him venture out on his own - for his own safety.

He doesn't see it that way.

There are plans in the offing for a fence that will act as a deterrent, but alas, this can only happen in the future, not immediately. Even when it is up, he's a determined little so-and-so, so he will still have to be supervised - and very closely at that.

Oh joy.

And people wonder why we never had kids...