English thug beats up innocent Canarian!

Oh my God! I am sooo ashamed. Having been delighted and impressed by the altruism of our island hosts, in my last post, it grieves me to report that it is one of my own who has shattered this cosy state of affairs.

The picture on the right shows the English thug in question, eight years old (should know better), Spike has had tolerance issues since he was a mere kitten. Perhaps it was the London streets where he was born, or the suburban green belt where he spent his formulative years, stalking sparrows and baiting the neighbourhood dogs… but Spike has always been a scrapper. And since coming to the Canary Islands, he has not improved. In Lanzarote, our neighbours called him Tarzan. Here in Tenerife they don’t call him at all. In fact dog walkers cross the road to avoid him: he likes calmly to sit on the wall and look contemptuously down at their pets, while they furiously bark back at him. Forget horse whispering, this cat has an uncanny, telepathic connection with dogs... he can piss them off with just a swish of his tail.

This time, his victim was a sweet, small, black and white puddy tat who only came to borrow something from our dustbin. The local cats are smaller than their English cousins and generally quite timid. Cuffed around the ear by Spike, the poor little thing was off like a shot, and never to be seen again. The aggressor sauntered back into the house and curled up on the sofa to continue his afternoon nap, as if nothing had happened. No shame. No apology.

Brutal, huh?