I used to be an expert at getting lost, making myself scarce, zipping off, disappearing, escaping their clutches and going on the lam.
My advantages were size and speed.
They were bigger and longer limbed.
But I could fit under the hedge. In fact I could speed off through the hole in the hedge without slowing.
By the time my pursuers had left the back garden and gone round to next door, I was out of that garden, under the next hedge, and the next one, the next one, the next one, all the way to the end of the row.
In my pyjamas of course Continue reading
Blackwatertown 