I found this note in the kitchen when I got home:
Further investigation revealed that the cat had finally caught a plump city pigeon [a long held ambition, previously unrealised] which she had brought into the utility room to eat. The children gleefully told me that the utility room had been filled with feathers which the childminder swept up. She also removed the bloody corpse to the intense chagrin of the cat. For her (childminder’s not cat’s) own obscure reason she deposited it in a plastic bag by the door of the shed. When Mr. Waffle got home, he had to bring it through the house and put it in the outside bin. The horror.
Also, my brother turned up unexpectedly at tea time. We had Domino’s pizza for dinner, so a day of unhealthy eating all round.
I adore “amply well fed.” (I adore Domino’s, too.)
Winsome locutions and Domino’s pizza are all very well but, regrettably, I am STILL finding pigeon feathers all over the house. Furthermore, the pigeon’s head has not been found. I suppose it’s better that the cat should have eaten it than that it turn up with the laundry.