Stupid subconscious and strange cats

When I was a small child, my mother used to read to me a lot.  Every day, mostly in the evenings. I was an early reader (about 4,5 years old), and when my reading skills were sufficiently developed, I started on the books I already knew. This isn't meant to impress anybody, because acquiring that skill early is certainly nice, but definitely not a sign of superintelligence. What it does mean, though, is that certain books and the impression they left have been with me from the very earliest childhood, among them a few of Hugh Lofting's Dr Dolittle books.
I'd never read them in English, and so I ordered The Story of Dr Dolittle and The Voyages of Dr Dolittle and read them yesterday. The effect was astounding, to say the least. Apart from being wonderful books, which are a pleasure to read even for an adult, they must've opened the floodgates of my subconscious - not overly surprising, given the importance they've had in my life. I had one of the worst nights ever, with dreams I only half-remember now, but which were so vivid that I woke up every half-hour. Today is Sunday, so it doesn't really matter. It's a rather strange feeling, though, as was the (conscious) realization of how much those books have influenced me: Dr Dolittle's views on the cruelty of zoos, of bullfights, his utter indifference to things like money and prestige, and his completely non-judgmental attitude towards his fellow human beings, for example. It was something of an epiphany, and I'm now doubly grateful to my mother for having put such a treasure in my crib, so to speak.

Observations of the feline population of this flat: Cornelius, who arrived about 2 months later than Lucius and is 6 weeks younger, would be the logical beta male. But he isn't. He's bigger and stonger than Lucius, which is obviously all that counts, for Lucius is waaaay more intelligent and faster. Besides, Cornelius has bad eyesight, and he's the only cat I know who not only stumbles but also doesn't fall on his feet. These many (and sometimes extremely funny) dawbacks notwithstanding, once ponderous, clumsy Cornelius actually catches up with his lithe brother, his 6 kg give him the upper hand over Lucius's barely 3. And so he's the alpha male, which means that he gets to have breakfast first and doesn't cover his faeces with sand. Cats... *shakes head*

Cooking and... cats again

Carrefour delivered the groceries I'd ordered, and so I made:

-bread with pecan nuts and onion (had a still-warm slice with butter, OMG!!!)
-chicken soup (with carrots, celery, mushrooms, a bit of onion and fresh coriander)
-vegetable tarte (shortcrust base, covered with fried aubergine slices, topped with spinach/onion/garlic/feta, the whole topped with thin tomato slices)

Sunday is usually my cooking day, so I don't have to cook after work till Wednesday or so, depending on whether I take some of it to work for lunch or not.

Today is a fine, sunny day, and so ze boyz were allowed to sit out on the kitchen balcony (on the table of course, and on a blanket) and enjoy the sun. There were two stray cats on the veranda roof right under the balcony, and ze boyz had to yowl and puff themselves up etc. They sounded like a pack of coyotes, yapping and howling. I kept a watchful eye, because there may be netting, but you never know. Nothing happened, though, and now ze boyz are all excited and probably very proud of having defended home and hearth.