Minnie Moo is it a ceiling fan, is it a Hawk

Do you think anyone can see me?  

Slowly but surely I adapted to my new home. 

One morning, a few days after our move M started chatting to me telling me all about our new street. Could you believe it our new street was called Kingsgate. Well I got really excited by this piece of news. Did it mean we were living next to a Royal King with a gate? 

This didn't sound right to me as my sources (the telly) had told me that there is a lady called the Queen, she's stonkingly rich, doesn't pay taxes, loves horses and mini-dogs who lives miles away in a rainy place called England. 

I didn't think she'd mind if I upgraded myself from being common Minnie Moo to King Minnie Moo, residence Kingsgate.  How very posh. 

From spending time staring out the window I noticed our new neighbours all spent a lot of time at home, working the gardens and mowing lawns.  They weren't like the people from my old place who every morning drove off in their alien space ships to go to this dreaded place called work.  

M said something like they all don't work anymore, they're what we call retired.  Ah, I thought that explains why they all look similar, especially the hair colour and drive teeny tiny noddy cars. They were a friendly bunch though at our old place no one "popped" over imagine the surprise on M's face when early one evening she heard a knock on the door.   

One of our new (but he's old) neighbours dropped by to ask M to dinner. His wife had cooked corned beef and there was plenty to share.

I thought wow what a lovely gesture but it also struck me as being a little odd.  What did corned beef mean?  Was it a half-half like me, I'm Minnie Moo, half mouse, half cow.  Imagine being half corn, half beef.  Not matter how much I tried I just couldn't stretch my imagination that far.

Anyway M was really touched to be invited but said she couldn't make it. Apparently M doesn't eat cows.  She's a vegetarian, oohh, I started to fret a little, do they eat friskies? 

Relieved I thought no peeps can't eat my fave food group. I remembered one day I got up really close to the bright yellow box of goodies and started reading all of the letters and words. It took me a while to decipher the code but one line stood out.  

"Not intended for human consumption. In cat speak - for us cats only, peeps don't even think about it".

Being the nosy thing that I am I hovered around the door to get a glimpse of our new neighbour. He was just lovely, a real gentleman. When I later found out that back in the day he "practiced law" I thought no wonder you're so nice. You're going bill us for your time and we'll probably have to pay for the corned beef too, I'd heard this is what those lawyers do!

This whole episode of coming to the front door was a brand new experience for me so far I'd only spent time in the bedroom, bathroom and practising jumping in an out of the window, it's above the loo and requires a few tricky precise moves (I don't want wet feet, eek).

Anyway here I was all the way done the other end of the house. I thought   be brave, explore, have a little look-y around the room M calls the "lounge".

Being ever so cautious I looked left, then right and repeated this step half a dozen times while slowly inching my way inside the room.  At the same time my head was bobbing up and down looking for any signs of danger. 

I froze. Standing dead still I was on high alert. Inside my head the alarm bells were going crazy, DANGER, WARNING, DANGER!!! This was code red. 

I was exposed with no protection while above me lurked a true prince of darkness.  I hunched down really low and remained as still as a mime artiste holding a pose. Hopefully no-one could see my insides were jingling. There I was trapped in the middle of the lounge. Above me circled my arch-enemy, Mr Hawk.

This was my worst nightmare and a flood of bad memories washed by me of days gone by where I was almost plucked from my hiding spot by one of these huge flying birds of prey. They're descendants from Dinosaurs and they're always on the look out for something to eat!

Terrified as I was, confusion lingered, what was a hawk doing hanging from the ceiling of the lounge? I'd only ever seen them outside in the big wide wilderness soaring high above ready to swoop in and pluck you away with their huge-mung-gous claws and take you to never-to-be-seen-again land.  

M saw my look and was also confused, she said something like "Minnie Moo what are you doing? Why are you crouched down and looking so afraid"?  All I could do was answer with an upward glance, my eyeballs nervously trailed up towards the ceiling.

"Oh Minnie Moo, that's just the ceiling fan, it makes a little whoop-whoop sound and keeps us all cool on these hot sunny days.  It's ok, it's not going to hurt you and it's definitely not a mean bird."

Unconvinced I crouched down lower. As much as I wanted to believe M my insides were screaming out "get down, get out of the way, Hawk, Hawk, Hawk".

All I could do was slowly reverse out of the room and slink all the way back to my comforting bowl of friskies but I was shaking so much my teeth rattled and I couldn't eat a thing.

To this very day I swear on hundreds and thousands of friskie boxes that the lounge at Kingsgate was a very dangerous room where Mr Hawk posed as a ceiling fan....

Yours in friskies Minnie Moo