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  • Dec 17
    My wrists are burning. Long jagged bleeding scratches are running half way up my forearm. I don’t know what type of tree is growing beside the tow path where Miracle is moored but its definitely got good defences.

    Duckie went out at 7am this morning and seeing the ice on the windows and frost on the ground I went back to bed. At 10am after 3 hours curled under my duvet and waiting for the* "let me back in"* meow I got up to see where Duckie had gone.

    It didn’t take more than a few calls to hear his reply. Duckie and I have always had a call and response system when we are out, we use it to locate each other on our walks and I use it to find him when he’s not returned home when i think he should have. It’s great. It surprises people to hear us and see him chasing down the tow path meowing as he does. When i was little my father trained me the same way with “our whistle” it allowed us both the freedom to wander about unaccompanied with the security of understanding that we could find each other at any time.

    This morning the meow was coming from quite close but I saw no rustling of the under growth to signal his return. Then I looked up, about 20 feet up. Perched in the crux of a very thin branch and staring down at me was Duckie. I didn’t hear whatever had caused him to climb up, but there he was. I tried to reach the tree but the brush is thick and tangled and after getting two feet closer I saw the centimetre long thorns that were against me. Upon seeing me Duckie climbed down to where I was but with no clearing in the dense tangle, I could not grab him.

    *You’ll have to make it down yourself Duck. *

    I retreat to the boat, calling him still.
    For extra encouragement I grab the kitteh crack and give it a shake. He’s sliding head first now down a branch that’s maybe an inch thick. I can see the panic but he recovers. The whole thing takes maybe five minutes longer and soon he’s on the boat happily purring and crunching away on his food.

    I’m relieved.

    Last week a kitten named Sprocket was taken by some teens and fed to two pitbulls further down the path. Sprocket, only 3 months old lived with dogs and had not run when the pitbulls were presented. She had no fear, to her dogs were family. We met Sprocket and her companion dog Cosmo in Enfield. They were both lovely animals.

    The whole thing was caught on CC’TV and another boater got a picture of one of the boys face. The police suspect the teens are training fighting dogs. Sprockets family is understandably distraught. I saw them earlier in the week and they pleaded with me to be careful with Duckie who although slightly older might be as trusting. It worried me. Was Duckie too trusting? He is very friendly. I wondered what he would do, would he run, climb a tree or would he fight and end up like Sprocket?

    Answer: Duckie would limb, and climb high.

    Good Duck.

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