This morning I booted a kitten. It spasmed frantically in the throes of death before gently laying its head on the sandy floor and silently expiring. Although at least that's what I thought it had done - and to be honest I felt fucking awful. But a minute or two later it came to and sped away from me like a freight train powered by pcp. That is one tough fucking cat, I mused.
Now, I'm not a totally irrational person, but after having spent my life savings (all 20,000 baht of it) on a 'larb lair' situated at the front of my premises, I found myself somewhat irked when I discovered a pride of felines taking a keen interest in the food stock whilst shitting and pissing all over the fucking place - cue the punt.
Enough is enough. Either they stay here and I kill them, or I round them up and ship them off into the jungle.
Due to past instances they all, in their own little way, completely despise me. This makes catching them pretty hard work.
The kittens were relatively easy, but the bigger ones are proving impossible to snare - much to the delight and amusement of the ever increasing crowd of spectators.
I will now go about employing the services of a small child to coax them with snack treats into the large bin I'm using as a means of transporting them some 3 kilometres into the depths of the unforgiving undergrowth behind my house..
The battle has begun..