Turf Wars

We have been living in the new house for about a month now.  The best thing about this place is the amount of extra space we have,  including a walk in wardrobe which I bloody love.  I have set it up like a little shop,  minus the cash register. But unlike fashion boutiques,  the contents are a little outdated but the staff, albeit only one, are super friendly. That would be me.

The other bonus of the new house is that the Property Manager is super-dooper efficient.  She is a joy and I tell her so every week when I report the latest item that needs fixing.  At the moment,  the dishwasher is fucked and Mr Woog is begging me not to contact Janie. “Just give it a few weeks…” he suggests. “We do not want her to think we are whingers.” That goes against my very essence and after this post,  I will be sending her a lovely note,  complete with kisses and a lot of butt-kissing.

Another problem we encountered early on was despite having a lovely cottage garden,  there was no lawn to house our piggery.  And that made EVERYONE a little sad.

So XO and Fooey Fooey Moi Moi have had a few weeks of being billeted out. Remember billeting? Where your parents would send you across the state to compete in some sporting event and you just rocked up to some random house and hoped to god they were not related to the Manson Family?

They spent a few weeks at some friends place before they started totally destroying their picture perfect turf before being moved to another mates place who lives across the street.  She has 3 kids who LOVE them and play bounces with them on their trampoline.  But this arrangement cannot last forever so Mr Woog put his thinking cap on and came up with the idea of The Pig Lawn.

With great toil and expense,  we now have two patches of Pig Lawn currently being cultivated.  We have the Summer Pig Lawn, shady and picturesque….

 And we have the Winter Lawn,  which is bathed in sunlight and watched over by Bruce the Bull.

I anticipate the lawn will be ready for annihilation by the weekend.

There is one other problem at the new house.  It seems we have moved into the Feline version of a Mexican Gangland Neighbourhood.  Our darling Chuy is a prisoner in his own home.  He is being bullied by a black cat who looks so identical,  they could be twin brothers but our Chuy is the illegitimate son of a stable cat out Richmond way and that would be just too much of a co-incidence.

Speaking of co-incidences,  the bully cat’s name is……….. CHEWIE! I am not lying and I could not make this shit up if I tried.  So Chewie stalks Chuy ALL DAY LONG and come night fall,  when I fetch Chuy to come inside,  asshole Chewie is still standing there……. staring, beckoning and edging for a fight.

Chuy Woog is closest to you in this picture and Asshole Bully Chewie is staring at him.  I have shown his face in case you recognise him as your own. And if he is, sort his shit out ok?

So,  the point of this post is thus.  Do you have any tips or tricks that I can implement to ensure that Chuy Woog is not blindfolded and chucked into the back of a sedan one night by Impostor Chewie? Seriously….. What should I do?