waiter waiter there's . . .a fish head on the floor.

                                          

You know you are dining with lovely, relaxed folks when you can be eating desert and someone nonchalantly mentions there is a small shark head under the table.
This was given to us by the fishmonger for the cat, who rejected it, and decided to leave it at our soiree. Better than the headless rat present he brought us the day before I suppose . . .
Here is a picture of said cat, Bronzino, who lived in a car before we took him on about nine years ago. He's a good sort, part of the pack, joins in the dog walking, up to a point, and drapes himself decoratively around the garden according to where the sun is.