It's probably best that I'm not able to speak to you live - we wouldn't be able to see each other. The fog and rain are as thick as a winter blanket. Of course the woman keeps lurching up behind me and scaring me half to death. Someone should install a fog horn on her... or she could just use her normal speaking voice.
She and the male human are going off to America for that nation's version of Thanksgiving, where she will no doubt proceed to annihilate their turkey and pie reserves. The good news is that we will have the admirable Jamie catering to our every need. He requires nothing of us except that we eat the delicious food he prepares. No exercise, no nagging and no critiquing of body shape. He also bats Sally's toy mouse around to perfection, allowing her to play the role of a large, predatory feline. The toy mouse contains a pleasant smelling herb that encourages her to ever greater feats of stalking and pouncing. When it's effect wears off, she retreats to her plush igloo to recover.
To the United States of America, I send you my heartfelt sympathies, but rest assured, it's only for five days. However, I also thank you for this respite from a tongue "sharper than a serpent's tooth" (at least on the subject of random wood chewing). Our rail fencing may be prove to be surprisingly remodelled when she returns.