A few people inquired this week as to the condition of our famous chookies.

They're good and continue to rule the roost, so to speak, at our house.

Come to think of it, there's little reason why they wouldn't be good. If you lived a life that consisted of endless treats, a leisurely afternoon stroll around the grounds and a safe place to sleep, well, life would be pretty grand don't you think?

The trouble is there's nothing in return! They're living this life at the moment without paying rent. Not a single egg.

Perhaps I can forgive one. She's moulting and the past week probably hasn't been the best of times to shed those warm feathers.

Still, I tell them daily that time is a ticking and should they not got their %$&@ into gear, literally, the consequences will be dire.

It appears they care little for such threats - got me sussed those two.

But rest assured the chooks aren't the only ones being asked to prove their worth at our place right now as there's a couple of cats in the gun.

Take feed time on Thursday night.

There we were in the shed going through the same nightly routine at the bench where they're fed.

I'm trying to open a food tin with one hand and keep these two 'never-had-a-feed-in-our-lives' felines at bay with the other.

It's a rort - they are actually over fed if anything but they carry on like their last meal was a month ago.

Truth is they're lazy. They don't fend for themselves. For these two cats it's all about hand outs - as many as they can get, as often as they can get them.

They have no desire to work for a living... back to Thursday night.

There we were going through the routine when a rat, yes, a rat, trotted along the ledge in front of us. You dirty rat!

It was close enough to touch... could have reached out and caught it myself. But that's not my job, right? Cats catch rats. They love it. Most, yes, but not ours it seems.

They didn't even flinch. They simply watched the rat trot by and continued on their attempts to get at the food I'd tipped into their bowl.

They say owners and their pets can communicate by a simple expression. Well my expression was clearly 'what the' and theirs was 'why would you want us to chase that when you're already doing all the work to feed us?'

Our stand-off was broken a minute or so later when rat number two trotted along the same path. 

Yep, this particular ledge of the shed appears to have become the dirty rat superhighway.

Surely, they'd find the gumption to chase this one. Nup. Not even a flinch, again.

So I fed them. They tucked in. I trudged off cursing their laziness.

Better get some rat bait, I guess.