“Taking a walk outside in the nice green garden Tabby?”
“I don’t see anything green about it. Looks the same as always. We have had this conversation before Mrs. Human. Felines do not do colour, the word does not exist in meow. If it smells good, then eat it. And if it smell good and moves, then kill it and eat it. It is not the colour Mrs. Human, it is the texture, taste, the smell.
As the great feline poet, William Tiddles Blake said “The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see colours all ridicule and deformity… and some scarce see colours at all. But to the eyes of the feline, a tree is interesting for the life it contains, not for its colour” and so we felines observe trees, it is not the colour Mrs. Human, but the life they contain. Many is the bird that sits in the tree which will supply a hungry feline with its next meal.
And now to continue my walk, I can see a very intersting spot beneat a bush, just made for my requirements. Soft earth and sheltered.”
“What are you doing Tabby. That is my rose bush.”
“Oh, then I will move Mrs. Human, I do not like rose bushes in my recycling places, they can cause a nasty scratch in my private parts. Is this better?”
“Tabby you have a recycling tray you know.”
“Of course I know, but life is so much better outside in the fresh air, surrounded by things you call green. My ancestors did not have a recycling tray, nature was their recycling tray. I am sure one of our great leaders had an appropriate saying. Yes I remember.”
“No Tabby, forget it, whatever your great leader said is certainly not appropriate for human life.”
“Yes, you are right Mrs. Human, our great felines did not indulge in the characteristics of primitive species.”