Paradise Lost and Regained, I'd say

Ginger by name, moggy by nature; that's me. Ovverwise
known as the scourge of 'Ackney. Well, I as to do a bit
of scourgin' now an' then, just to keep up me reputashun,
but if you wants the Dawg's Almighty trufe, I aint wot I
used to be – not since I developed this ‘lurgy to fevvers.
'Ow 'umiliatin' is that I arsk yer? Wot sorta cat 'as a
‘lurgy to 'is favourite dinner? ‘Course, if you finks
all birds is innocent victims and all cats is narsty 'preditors,
you might say that's justice for yer, but you doesnt know the
'alf of it!
I 'as birds linin' up on me winda’sill just to take the Jimmy Riddle.
I seen sparras doin' twittery little snorts and fallin’ right off the
telephone line from larfin’.

An’ big birds ain’t no better neivva, snobby lot. They finks fevvers
is better than fur. Why? Cos their ‘eads is stuffed full of ‘em,
that’s why. I met one only larst monf. Fick as a stick 'e woz.
The 'ouse nextdoor ‘ad stood empty for years see, but the garden
woz a Paradise for wildlife - including yours truly. But then,
New People moves in.

They ‘ad a telly programme come and film that 'ole Paradise being Lost!
You'd fink they'd be ashamed of theirselves obliterating years of
careful neglect like that in jus’ two days, but no, they brings in
a digger, and digs a dirty great 'ole wot they fills wiv water -
like they needed an outdoor barf or somefing. Then they dumps
a load of rocks round it.

"Must be a sauna," sez Puzzabelle, polishin’ 'er claws an' blowin'
on 'em fer some reason. She’s got the bearin’ of a queen, but
'er brains would embarrass a barnacle.

Well, the next day there was real live raw fish swimmin’ in the
pool, jus’ waitin' to be snapped up fer dinner, like an ‘igh-class
restaurant. Posh nosh or wot? I finks a caff next door wiv a
fleet of fishes, ‘AS to beat a bunch of randy rats and wild
flowers, don’t it?

Well, next morning I was lurkin' behind the rocks, wondering
which fish took me fancy fer breakfast, when this great grey
shadda’ blots out the sun. I takes a gander at the intruder,
and there 'e is, all tall and tidy in a grey and white outfit,
standin’ on one leg - pretending to be a statue - water lapping
round 'is knobblies. A class act all right. Fair took me breaf
away, all them 'uge feavvas rufflin' in the breeze. Enough to
make me sneeze for a month, so I shouts,

"Oy, BigBird!"

"You talkin to me?" 'e asks, posh and distant, like 'es 'olding
'is beak. Fellas wiv big 'ooters is like that.

"Yes I woz talkin' to you!" I snaps, at a safe distance mind coz
I'm guessin' those lanky shanks are stronger than they looks.
"Did you want to say something, apart from OY? 'E made that sound
posh and all.


"What you doin' eyeing up my fish?" I demands, polite as ever.
Well.... 'E wasn't to know I lived next door.

"Oh! I was landin’ and standin’!" drawls BigBird, over-statin'
the bleedin' obvious.

"Well this ain't 'Eathrow, mate!" I sez, gettin' ready to scarper
‘case that beak skewers me one remainin' eye.

"Just dropped in for a snack. Didn't know you did KOI in Hackney!"

‘E sounded quite impressed. And so was I - real fancy fish then!
But I doesn’t let on.

"Well, this ain=t no la-di-dah pit stop for posh birds, neivva!
You can't just come and 'elp yourself whenever you pleases!"

"And who is going to stop me?" 'e arsks, turnin' to stare at me.

'E 'ad a point. I could see lightnin' strikes be’ind those beadies,
and I didn't fancy me chances if 'e chose raw moggi over sushi
fer breakfast.

"Well, maybe we could ‘elp each ovva," I sez hobligingly, shiftin'
well back out of range.
"You, help me?" 'E made it sound so unlikely I bristles all over.
"I gotta plan," I sez, bold now.
"Oh yes?" 'E sounded that disdainful I knew I 'ad to get 'im then -
no matter wot. I smiles, ever so ‘ospitable.
"I’ll go to the ovva end of the pond an’ jump in – and chase
the fish towards yer. Like a seal." sez I.

‘E finks, an’ then gives me the nod.

"Ready?" I arsks, sneakin' round to the far end of the pond near
the fence. Course, I 'ad no hintention of wettin’ me paws, but
I knew a fella who’d bite yer legs for the chance.

"Bonzo?" I whispers, and a shiny nose pokes the slats aside.
"Fancy a Big Breakfast?" I arsks, and 'is eyes lights up like
it's Christmas.

Then 'e charges fru the 'ole, into the water, barkin' and
yellin' for all 'es worf, and the 'eron launches 'iself into
the air - cursin’ quite loud if I ‘eard correct.

Well, I nips fru the fence and back to me own garden as the
New People rush outside. What a to-do! I watches, all innocent,
from the upstairs winda as they pats Bonzo and nails up the fence.
‘That'll fix the lahdi-birdie-dah!’ I finks.
But the next mornin' when I nips over the wall, blow me down,
there's that pesky ol’ bird AGAIN!

"Oy! Wot you doin= back 'ere?" I arsks, none too 'appy about 'is cheek.
But 'e doesn't even answer. "Oy, BigBird I'm SPEAKIN'to you!" I sez.

Still no reply.

So I sneaks nearer.

Then I sees the fish!

They's swimming right round 'is feet! And even stranger, me nose
ain’t even twitchin’ this time!
The New People 'ave only gone and got theirselves a plastic
Free-From-Feavvas 'eron, to scare off that norty old predator!
So I sez, ta very much and takes the hopportunity to 'elp myself
to a Big Breakfast right under 'is knobby knees.

Paradise Regain’d I’d say, wiv knobs on.