howtobeacrazycatlady

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

The Real World...

It’s been another bonkers week.  A Board meeting scheduled for Thursday and a high-profile workshop coming up means a whole bunch of running around and sorting various bits for both events.  

Monday was flat-out, but Tuesday found a whole new level of intense.  By the time I stumbled out the office with a headache and sore shoulders, I was a little gozzy-eyed.  It was going to be a looooong week.

I hurried to the station wondering what joys Thameslink would have in store for us this evening.

My phone buzzes with a message.  I don’t usually answer when I’m dashing to the station but it’s Marie.  Have I got a moment to chat?  

For my foster-crew….always.

Marie wonders if I’ve heard of the little cat that’s been spotted hanging around the local supermarket and skate park?  Nope, not heard anything.  Turns out she’d had at least 3 people mention it to her and she’d nipped along to see what she could do.  A pretty little tortie, friendly but wary and looking a bit rough as well as a little runny around the nose.  Marie took along a carrier to try catch her – with the intention of getting her checked over by a vet and scanned for a chip.  

And that, she explains, is when she ran into Crazy Cat Guy.

To cut the long story of Crazy Cat Guy short, he hangs around the local supermarket.  He looks like a rough sleeper and he’s mentioned ‘pitching his tent’ a few times.  I first met him through Oscar, effectively, when Osc was a stray living in the bushes of the supermarket.  Richard feeds any cats that wander by and he was furious at me for catching Osc and taking him in. Richard’s feeling is that cats should be allowed to live free and ‘naturally’ ….neutering is ‘not up to humans to decide for the cat’ and they should be left alone to ‘enjoy their families together. Like lions.’  Er…OK, Richard. Trying to talk to him is often pointless but I keep chatting to him, largely to find out about any other waifs and strays that might need rescuing.  

So Marie ends up having the same conversation with Richard and going around and around.  Marie patiently explaining that she wants to get the cat to safety then get it checked by a vet and scan for a chip. Richard going on about him feeding it and it being no one else’s business but his and wishing people would leave the cats alone.

Marie clears off with the intention of returning when Richard isn’t around.

I say to Marie that I’ll let her know if Richard has disappeared as I pass by the supermarket on the way home.

He hasn’t.  And he’s agitated when I approach, going on about everyone bothering the little cat that he’s been feeding and he’s looking after it and folk need to leave it alone.  

I’m feigning complete ignorance about the little cat when suddenly I spot a young lass heading towards us with a carrier.  Ohmygoodness – EVERYONE knows about this cat and is trying to catch it!

A somewhat heated discussion ensues between Richard, the young gal and myself about getting the cat to safety.  During which time, Marie drives by!  She was planning another go at catching the cat.  Surreptitious gesturing from me has Marie not stopping but slowly turning around and driving away.  While the back and forth with Richard and the young lady (it won’t ruin the narrative if I cut to calling her by her name – Eve) is going, on I slink off with “Oooh, I’ll just see if I can find the little cat” and sidled off to the car park to chat to Marie.  

I assure her that Eve has a carrier and seems pretty damn determined to catch the cat regardless of what Richard thinks.  Marie is pleased but says she’ll head back first thing in the morning to try again in case Eve hasn’t managed to catch the tortie.  She heads off and I get back to Eve and Richard and do my best to try, once again, to make Richard understand that the life of a stray or feral cat is horrible.  It’s short; it’s rough; it’s repeated pregnancies until too weak to fend for itself, it’s constant fighting for survival – against illness, against other cats, animals and for every scrap of food it can find.  I’m also really keen to ensure Richard doesn’t turn aggressive with Eve.  She’s a tiny wee thing – feisty, but tiny!

Out the corner of my eye, I spot a lady and her daughter crossing the road from the park.  She has a cat in her arms.  

“Blimey,” I say, “This is just the most blummin’ popular cat in Flitwick EVER!” and point out the lady to Richard and Eve.  

Eve suddenly turns into Usain and BOLTS towards the woman and the cat.  A full-on sprint after the woman, carrier bouncing about and all.

A furious Richard starts to follow.  He’s got a bad leg so he’s only able to walk after them.

Eve manages to catch up with the lady and convince her to hand the tortie over. By this point, the cat is wriggling wildly so the lady happily agrees.  The little tortie is safe in the carrier.  

Richard is agitated but starts to back down in the face of, now, 4 people saying the animal needs to see a vet and be checked out.  Eve promises again and again to keep Richard up to date.  Richard starts to look like he’s heading back to the supermarket and I figure Eve is safe with the lady and her daughter so time to head home.  

My step is light and my mood high.  All the stress of a crazy day at work completely erased.  I burst through the door and greet Freya and Mimi enthusiastically “Oooh, ladies, you wouldn’t BELIEVE what’s just gone on….but the little cat is SAFE!  She’s SAFE, girls!!”  I quickly send Marie a text and let her know the young lady has successfully rescued the tortie and will take her to the vet the following day.  I resolve to track her down via the tattoo and piercing studio t-shirt she’s wearing and try not to come across as too much of a weirdo in order to get an update and, if needed, to offer the tortie a foster space with our branch.

Sean’s round that evening. I’m totally animated, waving my arms around telling him the whole story.  Tired?  What tired??

Wednesday goes into overdrive and there’s not a moment to spare to email or even call Eve via her workplace.  Another long day, I more or less slide out of the building.  All the excitement of Tuesday night buried under a to-do list spinning around inside my skull.  I get home and try to get some dinner standing in the kitchen whilst checking various Board members onto their flights for Thursday evening. Board meeting is now locked and loaded.

I get a text from Marie. Eve has posted a ‘found’ of the little cat and is keen to find a shelter space.  Would I mind getting in touch with Eve as we’d already been chatting? I was all over it like a bad rash. Messaged Eve and after several messages back and forth we’ve got ‘Tammy’ scheduled for dropping off at Marie’s on Thursday evening.

I happy dance all over the kitchen and around the front room.  Freya follows curiously; Mimi is hoping there’s a scrunchie-throwing-session in it for her.  

Thursday - blissfully working from home as it means I can get an early start on the to-do list and it’s clearing nicely.  A brief interruption of getting the total drama-queen that is Oscar over to the vet for his annual MOT.  And then straight back into planning for the workshop.  The Board Meeting is going ahead without a hitch so now there’s everything else to catch up with – including a goodly couple of hours of the Billing Team and me trying to out-passive-aggressive each other on email. I lose.

I send a text to Alison hoping to catch up on various admin things I want to check with her.  But, in the Real World, Alison is spending her afternoon rescuing a stray from Marsh Farm in Luton.  List of admin questions can wait.  “Is he OK?!”  Yes, the 4-month old kitten is now fine – dusty and full of fleas and ticks.  But safe.

Billing can go to hell. In the Real World, all that matters is that the kitten is FINE.

6.30pm - I’m keeping an eye on Board Member flights departing on time. Minor delays but so far, so good.  Whoop!  I make a start on some of the fostering admin that needs sorting. Diarising the chip and neuters for the kittens that have come through the branch.  Updating chip details.  Drafting an email on the next batch of rehomed cats and rabbits that’ll need their post adoption follow up.

7.30 - Eve collects me and we head over to Marie’s to settle Tammy The Tortie into her new luxury digs. The new pens have only just been signed off by the inspector.  They’re LUSH. It’s always lovely catching up with Marie and Eve is just terrific.  Between that, cooing over little Tammy and introducing Eve to Marie’s other two fosters, it was 9pm before I got home.

So, jam in feeding my furry crew, watering the garden, replenishing the fish pond and giving it a much-needed treatment.  Watching, transfixed, the little toad that’s moved in – so cute! Feeding the Night Creatures.  Having a good old play with Mimi who’s been cooped up all day because Oscar is home on the couch with the vapours after the ordeal of being in the cat carrier.  It’s well after 11pm before I get round to pulling my dinner together.

I sit on the couch eating way more than I should do and I ponder the frenetic Friday scheduled for the office – it’s do-able. Pah, it’s a walk in the park.  I’m back in my Real World.  My furries are all home and safe and two cats have been rescued this week. In my Real World, those little cats are sleeping soundly tonight and I’m doing what I hoped to start doing a couple of years back – I’m making a difference.  It might be small….but it’s a difference.  I’m knackered and I’m aware I’m about to doze off on the couch…again….and utterly happy in my Real World.  

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

He’s destroying the sofa but having a WHALE of a time doing so…!

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

When a ‘nice, relaxing bath’...isn’t

I’m a huge fan of the ol’ bath.  And, last night, it was cold and slushy out.  Perfect bath weather.  Added to that, I’d missed the bus to get me to the shop in the morning, so decided to walk the (uphill) 2.5miles in the snow.  By the time I got to the shop, every muscle in my thighs and bottom were burning – and was I sweating cobs.  I’m SO UNFIT these days!  

After a morning in the shop - and you’re on your feet the whole time - I headed home.  Only to remember I needed more specialist tummy food for Lola, so a trudge in the snow to the vet and back.  Saturday afternoon chores etc etc.  I was utterly knackered and aching by evening time….and I think to myself: “Oooh, it’d be nice to have a soak in the bath…” and turn on the taps.

Within nanoseconds, Freya is in the bathroom and sitting on the side of the bath.

Our Freya is BONKERS about water.  

I don’t think it had anything to do with her first time set free outdoors, mind.  All of 6 months old, a cold February day, I opened the doors to let her out into the garden.  

She was so giddy and excitable, she ran straight into the fishpond.  

Not the best of debuts…and she’s fallen in a few times since.  

Every time I’m doing the dishes, every time I’m sorting the pond pumps, every time I’m brushing my teeth – she’s there.  Water??!!  

She’s been SO excitable in the snow - always is!

The bath water has only just covered the bottom of the bath and Madam is peering in, weighing up the possibility of trying it out.

And bath-time invariably goes like this…every time.

I clamber in and Freya paces up and down along the edge.  

Oh, she prefers her ‘showers’ y’see.  

Morning showers ahead of work, she sits on the other side of the shower curtain. I’m showering away, and she enjoys being ‘splashed’ by the warm shower-water. So, she’s a little put out that we’re having a bath rather than a shower.

Pace up…pace down. Peer into the water intently. Pace up…pace down.

I wiggle my toes out the water.  Oooh! Baff, baff the toes.  Baff the toes.  More wiggling.  Under taps, behind taps.  I’m now half out the water, resting on elbows, toes outstretched, trying to give her the best toe-game.  

OK, bored now.  Madam starts to stare at the water even more intently.  She looks like she’s going to try drink the bathwater.  Head shrinks back at the temperature of the water.

“Hang on, hang on”, I sigh.

Freya has a water bowl ritual in the mornings.  I brush my teeth and she waits impatiently while her water bowl is filled and put at the side of the bath for her morning drink.  This bowl is now always by the side of the bath because she also likes a drink while I’m in the bath.  

I like a drink while I’m in the bath too…am starting to believe the cats have driven me to that place!

I’ve got the water bowl and am carefully filling it with cold water from the bath taps – trying not to get any cold water into my rapidly chilling bath.  

Put it on the side of the bath and Freya happily heads for a drink.

She’s never been a ‘tidy’ drinker, our Freya.  No delicate little pink tongue lapping gently as other cats do.

Our Freya ‘clarps’ her water.  

Instead of lapping, she has this way of sucking up the water with her mouth and, as the water falls back down, her tongue catches it.  It’s really fascinating to watch but, as someone who’s ready to shriek if someone crunches crisps loudly, you’ll understand that the noise of Freya drinking certainly “focusses one’s attention”.  

Soaking up the last of the heat of my bathwater, I’m treated to: ”Clarp, clarp-clarp, clarp, clarp-clarp-clarp….”

Followed by more pacing up and down the side of the tub.  Every so often there’s a little slip.

No one wants a panicked cat in their bath water.  There’s claws, there’s nakedness and vulnerable bits…

And then Freya decides I’ve spent enough time in the bath.

You know how I know this?

She eyes up the window ledge…. THAT’S how…

The window sits alongside the bath.  It’s a big ol’ window, big ol’ ledge.  Only, there’s a big ol’ bath between it the ledge she’s on.  

“Don’t…”, I start….as her head focusses on the ledge and her bottom starts wiggling…I sit up nervously….“No…Freya…don’t….don’t…DON’T!!  Oh, Ok…there you go.”

Freya is now on the windowsill, thankfully having cleared the bath – and me. That direction of jump seems fine….but….I pull the plug on the bath.  That’s it for me….because I know where this is headed….

Freya’s attention-span of two minutes means she’s now looking to get DOWN from the windowsill.  

The jump will be back across the bath.  To date, she’s not cleared the leap from the window-sill to the floor beyond the bath. I think she aims for the side of the bath rather than the floor – and the edge is too narrow and too slippery.

Again, naked bits and vulnerable bits.  She’s about to jump and that will mean Freya in the bath.  I’ve seen the crashing about she’s done in the fishpond.  My pink bits are outta there…!!

Towelling off, she’s still negotiating the chasm.  Bottom wiggling…then some more pacing.  I’ve yet to get a video of it because every time I head for my phone, I’m just not fast enough.  I’ll hear a thud, splash, scramble…

Then be faced with a damp, stony glare….

“Look, you should know about that windowsill by now…AND, and….I’ve not had a bath in peace since you discovered it!!”

Freya stalks off….stopping to shake a foot.

And all my lovely Lush bathbombs remain untouched in their pretty basket.

“Did you say ‘bath’??”

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

What NOT to do on Christmas Eve...

It would appear that the best way to get Oscar home is to ensure he can’t get into the house. Typical.  It would also appear my numptyness knows no bounds. And my neighbours aren’t all THAT curtain-twitchy after all….especially after midnight.  

It goes like this….

So, it’s Christmas Eve. Another busy, busy day, trying to cram as many things in as possible.  With the new job taking up so much time and energy, this Christmas hasn’t been my usual, organised-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life affair. Today – Boxing Day – is the day I finally get to do my Christmas cards. Yes, it’s been THAT disorganised.  

But, back to Christmas Eve, and I’ve been a shade of blue for a goodly chunk of the day – fretting about and missing Oscar.  

He’s been VERY scarce of late and, as I’m still waiting on his replacement tracker (my fault – haven’t had the time to get it sorted), I’m back to wondering whether he’s moved out and I’m now just a ‘stop’ on his route as he goes for evening wanders.  He has been popping by for something to eat but hasn’t been finishing it…and then wanting out immediately afterward. Getting quite shouty if I try to keep him in.  So, no sign of him many a night and day.

Even nights spent on the couch waiting for him have just resulted in disappointment.  And it’s been jolly cold at night too; adding to my growing belief that he’s got a second home.

That said, he had come home one evening in the wee hours and I’d been too fast asleep to hear him.  I do sleep VERY well on the couch….  

He’d clearly come in with a bad tummy, threw up – then left.  

Woke up in the morning thinking he’d left me a dead mouse but as I looked closer I realised it was sick….a big black lump of furball and something else. Closer examination revealed stringy elastic.  A LOT of it all tangled up.  On the one hand, I was relieved it was now on my floor instead of in his stomach but, on the other hand, I’m now worrying about what he’s scavenging on whilst he’s out there!

Further adding to my worries about him not coming home.

Back from the annual Christmas Eve Curry with Sean and his family, I’m pottering around the house. Essentially, staying up as late as possible in the hope Osc will come home.  He’s been gone for over 36 hours at this point.  Just before midnight, I decide to wait up for him/sleep on the couch.

It does worry me, sleeping on the couch and leaving the conservatory door open for him to come home. Anyone, technically, could just walk in. I keep the sliding door closed – but I’ve never worked out how to lock it.

So Christmas Eve, nearly midnight with a few glasses on wine on me, I decide to try work out how to lock the sliding door, don’t I?

And being short, this involves a lot of stretching to reach the mechanism.  

I wiggle the latch-thingy about a little bit then give it a jolly good push.

“Click!”

…..oh, gosh…HURRAH! It’s locked!  THAT’S how you do it! Fab!

Try to unlock it.  Er…nope.  It’s not that simple.  It doesn’t just unlock, it seems.

Now fiddling some more, standing on tip-toes.  Try this combination with that other sliding bit.  No. Try pulling that bit.  Try pulling that bit a little bit HARDER. Try pulling that bit even HARDER and swearing a little bit.  

Right, I think.  This clearly doesn’t have a simple unlock mechanism. It must require a key. Right.  Where’d I put the key, then?

I couldn’t figure out how to use the lock when I moved in (3 years ago) so I’d clearly put the key somewhere safe.  I go hunting around trying to find the key. Not in any of the obvious places.

I try the sliding door lock again.  Pulling on the latch even HARDER and making unpleasant comments about its parentage.

I sigh.  

And spot the bunch of house keys in the conservatory door lock.  Ah. Now I remember where the key for the sliding door is.  On that bunch.  On the other side of the locked sliding door.  

Oh for….

I sigh even louder. To get the bunch of keys won’t be too much of a drama, really – in the morning.  I’d just have to go out the front door, ROUND the houses to the back alley, along through the overgrown weeds and stuff, force the back gate into the garden, take the keys out the conservatory door and then retrace my steps through to the front of the house.  And then can try the stupid blummin’ key in the stupid blummin’ lock of the stupid, stupid, blummin’ sliding door.  

I stomp around the house turning lights off and heading for the couch to sleep and wait for Osc.  I’ve every faith he won’t come home anyway and, hurrah, for once, I’m SAFE sleeping on the couch because of the stupid, stupid locked sliding door.  

Osc turns up just before 1am, doesn’t he?

Of COURSE he does.

He walks in with his usual meowy announcement of “I’m HOME!  HELLO!”

I get up off the couch and try explain the situation to Osc through the sliding door.  Yes, I’m an idiot and I’ve locked the sliding door but if he wouldn’t mind just sleeping in his hammock in the conservatory until morning light, I’ll sort the keys out and ensure he gets a super-duper slap-up brekkie. Promise.

Osc starts to get a little shouty and I keep talking through how MUCH of an idiot I am and if he’ll just be a little understanding on this occasion…

And for some unknown reason, Oscar decides he really, really, REALLY wants in.  Given I’ve hardly seen hide nor hair of him for nearly two weeks, I’m somewhat taken aback by the sheer passion with which Oscar has decided he really, really, REALLY wants in….NOW!  RIGHT NOW!!  RIGHT, RIGHT NOW!!!!

Before long, he’s positively yelling and pacing back and forth in front of the sliding door.  Then, he’s on the dining room table stomping all over the Christmas lunch vegetables I’ve left there because there’s not enough space in the fridge.  Then, he’s on top of his cat tree shouting at the top of his lungs. Then, he’s back at the sliding door, paws up on the glass, stretched his full length hollering some more.  

Oh my days….nothing for it.

Get the boots on, get the coat on over my jammies and get the torch out. Double check my front door keys as I head out the front door because that would just be the blummin’ cherry on top of all this, wouldn’t it?

I stomp around to the back of the houses, muttering to myself and absolutely convinced a neighbour is going to call the cops to report someone skulking around at gone one in the morning.  

I try my gate.  It’s only got one of those simple latch things and I lift the gate a little to try dislodge it.  I’ve also got a wire coat hanger…my thinking is that I’ll be able to pull the latch up from over the other side.  Only I’m way too short for this plan to work, aren’t it?  No WAYS I can reach the latch even with a stretched out wire hanger.  

I’m now more than a little frustrated and so just shoulder the gate.  It budges off the latch quite easily and with only a minimal thud. Still, I’m standing there waiting for someone to holler that they’re calling the police.  

Nothing.  

I decide cunning and quiet is now probably NOT a good idea if anyone is looking out of their window. Surely, it would be best for them to realise I’m NOT a burgler?  I start to wave at all the windows just in case.  Osc, in the conservatory watching me walking and waving in the middle of the night is now beginning to get nervous.  I panic he’s going to bolt – and I’ll not see him for the rest of the night and this’ll all be a massive waste of time and energy.

I make a crazy dash across the patio to grab the conservatory door, leap indoors and slam the door behind me, trapping Oscar in the conservatory.

Osc is a little freaked and confused and I spend a few minutes sitting on the cold floor calming him down.

Still no sirens at this stage….so I get the keys out the conservatory door, close it behind me – keeping Oscar in – then head back across the garden.  Waving at the windows again.  Close the gate behind me….well, can’t latch it, just pull it to….and head back through the alley keeping my torch as low as possible. Around the front of the houses and through my front door.

Drag the sitting room table up to the sliding door to be able to stand on it and spend a further 15 mins trying to get the stupid, stupid, blummin’ irritating key to work in the stupid lock. It’s one of those tube-thing keys instead of a NORMAL key. Of course, it is.  

Oscar has calmed down again – or just felt more comfortable with me being on the correct side of the locked, sliding door – and has taken up his frantic hollering again.  

After what felt like FOREVER, I finally unlocked the door.  Blasted thing….

Osc sashays through and does his hoppy-thing.  It’s really quite sweet…when he’s happy to see you, he hops up and down until you give him a cuddle.  

He gets a big cuddle and then I head off and get him a BIG dinner.

Doors locked and double checked – except for the STUPID sliding door.  Lights out.  Exhausted, I flop onto the couch relieved I’m STILL not hearing any sirens. Relieved, but also….come ON, there’s been someone wandering around the back of the houses at ONE IN THE MORNING, PEOPLE!  Forcing gates and waving at you!!

I doze off….woken as Oscar cuddles into my back.  He starts to wash himself which means, given his size and weight, I’m rocked back and forth as he’s clearing out various bits of leaves and other foliage from his long fur.  We both drift off about 20 minutes later.

Am so happy he’s home.

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

Frightened but fighting...

Phew…home!  Through the front door to a wonderful greeting from Freya.  I love the way her upright tail quivers when she’s happy to see you!  For a grumpy gal, she sure knows how to do a celebratory greeting!  And Oscar’s just wandered home too.  Not soaked through, not covered in burrs, no blood smears across his bib or ticks stuck to his chin….just fluffy and all big greeting-y…

They’ll both be snoring their brains out in their favourite snoozy spots in no time. Yay!

And me, can’t wait for a nice, long, hot bath and an early t’bed…

So, first Wounded Badger Patrol of this current cull season.  I plan to do at least 3 this year.  

Only managed one last year because I got to the ‘party’ so late.  By the time I had things booked up, patrols were in disarray.  No one knew when the licences were expiring and so were heading home from the various camps.  My long weekend – with plans for day patrols, dawn patrols and night patrols – turned into one LONG night patrol on the Friday….and going home Saturday afternoon because there was no one else available to patrol with.  

For safety reasons, you have to patrol in a group.

Safety reasons??

Yes…safety reasons.   It’s blummin’ scary out there.

Firstly, I’ll say this….bTB is utterly horrendous.  It’s wiping out herds and the livelihood of farmers.  My passions run against the whole dairy and meat industry anyway but suffering bTB UPON the everyday life of these poor cows…it’s just awful.

And then, I’ll say this. Badgers, to my mind and all my research (I’m not a scholar, just a Googler), are NOT responsible for the spread of bTB.  In my (humble, very humble) opinion, biosecurity of the farming industry is to blame.  bTB takes a long time to make itself known in the animal.  In that period, cow poo (slurry) has been collected and spread over other fields.  In that period, cows have been moved (and pooed) in other areas.  And I’m not going to go down the accusatory route of all the incidents of poor biosecurity of dead animals left rotting in fields…but the evidence is there.  

In fact, just thinking about it….I’ve just come home from a cull zone.  In the same boots I was wearing during my Wounded Badger Patrol. From an area with an increase in bTB. At no point did I have to walk through a sterilisation point (which I’ve seen and done in the past).  

No one has checked my boots for bTB.

Dogs can carry bTB…so can cats….and foxes…and mice and rats and stoats and deer and munjac deer and squirrels and shrew and vole…and….?  

And so why the blummin’ heck are badgers getting it in the neck?

….right, so I’m over in Cheshire for the weekend to join one of the Wounded Badger Patrols.  

Now, these patrols are BRILLIANT.  

Firstly, they scout during the day, at dawn, at dusk and during the night.  IF there are people available, that is.  During the day, dawn and dusk they check for blocked in setts, traps and baiting. During the night they check for badgers that have been shot and wounded so they can get them medical attention.  

And, most importantly, whilst there’s us bozos in hi-vis wandering about in the dark with their torches and all chatty-like…the shooters aren’t allowed to shoot.

And that make the shooters and farmers angry.  Very, VERY angry.

A large part of the Patrol is watching out for shooters and farmers.  Intimidation is the name of their game and they’re VERY GOOD at it.

My first patrol – last year – was pretty blummin’ terrifying….

I also recall being so very brash as I donned my hi-vis for the first time.

An experienced patroller (ex-League Against Cruel Sports undercover agent) says : “So, if it gets a bit heated and vocal out there, do you think you’ll be OK?”

Me: “Ooh, I’ll have absolutely NO problem telling those gits what I think about them….!”

Him: “..OR….or….we could just be really calm and not escalate things…”

Me: “…oh….OK, we could just be really calm…”

That night I had vehicles driven at me at speed, to turn away at the very last second.  I could only just stand there with my eyes screwed shut…literally.

Also, a stand-off with an angry shooter/farmer.  Now, I was raised by a Glaswegian Mum who could turn the air blue just wishing you ‘good morning’.  I stood in stunned silence at the barrage of abuse and insult we got just being there and him “knowing what we were up to…”

Several times that evening, I braced myself for being pushed around a bit.  I just hoped my glasses wouldn’t get broken.  And, at one point, put them in my backpack assuming the worst.  

Being short-sighted…in the dark….there’s a thing…

We are all, actually, frightened going out on these patrols.  

This Saturday night was a quiet one.  Thankfully.

One group in another area was intimidated and they cleared off.  

We have a police liaison and, in Saturday night’s case, a code phrase if we have to call the police.  If it all kicks off, we call 999, ask for the police and quote the project.  They respond immediately.  

Because they are well aware of how it can turn….EVER so quickly.

A patroller’s tyres were slashed on Thursday.  As a result, two patrollers are required to remain with the cars at all times.

We pulled up to the area we planned to patrol on Saturday.  There was a car there.  A lone lass sitting in the car.  As our 3 cars pulled up, the look of sheer PANIC on her face.  She was protecting her crew’s car…and we 3 pull up.  Our head leapt out the car and identified himself to her before she passed out….she virtually fell out of the car and hugged us.

We are SUPER scared out there!

Every time a vehicle passed our meeting point and slowed, we all looked around anxiously.  Every time we saw torches and didn’t quite recognise them (there are other ‘friendlies’ out there) we huddled closer.

We are SCARED!  We are frightened we’re going to get involved in altercations that are going to get ugly.  We’re worried about our safety and those of our patrol friends.  We’re worried someone gets seriously hurt by the angry ANGRY shooters and farmers who are FURIOUS that we’re getting in their way. For the reasons that are important to them.

But we’re not backing down. Not a blummin’ chance.

My B&B and train tickets are booked for next weekend.  I’m hoping and praying for another quiet one.  But, as the season licence tightens and cull targets are to be met, patience will run shorter and shorter….tempers will fray.

I’m scared.  But I’m going back. And I’ll keep going back….even tho’ I’m scared. Really, I’m frightened.

But...every hour I’m out there means a shooter can’t shoot.  And, as awful as it sounds, if they’re intimidating me, they’re not shooting a badger.

It’s all I can do….

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

Haaaappy birthday, dear Poopypaaaaants! Happybirthdaytoyoooooo!

So our Freya turned 3 today. Bless her little furries!  

I was marvelling, just the other day, on how much she’s mellowed – particularly over this last year.  She’s become much friendlier towards me – in fact, noticeably follows me around the house if she’s not snoozing -  and will even occasionally jump down from her lofty perch atop the bookshelf and give visitors a bit of a sniff.  A far cry from the super grumpy, swipey, bitey kitten she was.  My theory is that it’s a combination of Oscar having moved in and the coming and going of various foster cats. While she’s not a particularly big fan of any other living creature, I think she finds it all rather curious and interesting…all these other ‘them cats’.  She loves to loathe Osc…and she’s just plain nosey too…

She does still have some of her wonderful quirks tho’.  Her obsession with the bathroom, for example.  She loves the shower. Loves to sit on the side of the bath. Still gives me a swipe of the paw as I climb into the shower and she’s mesmerised watching the water splashing around.  From time to time, she’ll sit alongside the dry side of the shower curtain so that she can feel the rush and splash of the water but stay nice and dry.  So cute!

As a grumpy kitten, the only time I could give her a tickle was when she was in the bathroom.  I could have her sit on my lap and tickle her just twice a day…after my shower in the morning and when I got home from work in the evening. She’d eagerly jump onto my lap and sit and purr loudly as I’d tickle her around her ears.

I should point out, I’d have to be sitting on the loo.  I think part of the thing she enjoyed was my vulnerability at having my knickers around my ankles…

She’s got a ‘psycho’ purr at times too.  When she’s really, REALLY enjoying her tickle, she has another layer of purr…a kind of high pitched one, quivering and wavering over the deeper thrumming.  It sounds borderline hysterical…can be a little unnerving…

She’s never ‘meowed’ much. In fact, I could probably count the number of meows on one hand…and, bloody hell, does it get a reaction from me! She just has to utter the quietest ‘meep’ and I leap up and dash over “What’s the problem, Poopy! What’s wrong?! Why are you meowing?!”  If she were able to raise a sardonic eyebrow and give a smug smile, she would…because she always just walks away with NO INDICATION AS TO WHY SHE MEOWED!!

She does chirrup…which is quite delicious.  Especially when Sean is around.  She seems to like to talk to Sean.  Sean has a most incredible ability to reproduce any sound he hears – it’s uncanny. So he’s able to copy the noises Freya makes.  In hindsight, that might make him the annoying kid in the playground who just repeats everything you say…

Freya: “bbbbrruppeep” (translated: Hello you guys.  I’m back from my wander around.)

Sean: “bbbbrruppeep” (translated: Hello you guys.  I’m back from my wander around.)

Freya: Why are you just repeating what I’ve said?

Sean: Why are you just repeating what I’ve said?

Freya: You’re being really irritating, you know…

Sean: You’re being really irritating, you know…

…and so on….

The one thing I’m looking forward to this evening tho’ is playing ‘catchers’ with Poopy….she’s just the BEST to play with.  She’ll sneak up whilst you’re in the kitchen and give a little chirrup.  The game is to then turn around menacingly…grrrrr….and she stands her ground…her tail going up all poofy and she gets ready to run. You then make a dash towards her and she LEGS it as fast as she can across the front room, through the conservatory, across the back yard…all the way to the back fence.  I generally only chase her as far as the back door.  Then you stop.  Then you look surprised and maybe do your best ham-actor terrified look. Then run towards the kitchen….usually to be overtaken by Freya charging past you, maybe giving your leg a swipe as she goes by.  You then stop.  Look menacing…and off she goes back across the length of the house and garden.  I often wonder what the neighbours make of it….the pair of us larking about….”Mavis, the nutter at Number 12 is being chased by her cat again…”

And then she’ll curl up on her blankie on my bed tonight…with her (still fave) beanie toys – Mr Tamatty Man (shaped like a tomato), Mr Quackles (duck) and Mr Bum Bum Bee (erm…bee)

….and every so often, she’ll bring one to my pillow during the night.  

I think she likes me.

That said, it could also be an ominous warning… Mr Bum Bum Bee’s head in the bed….oooeer….!

Freya as a kitten - adored Sean from Day 1...her fave spot.

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

Happy birthday, dear Poopypaaaaaaants....happybirthdaytoyoooooo!

So our Freya turned 3 today. Bless her little furries!  I was marvelling, just the other day, on how much she’s mellowed – particularly over this last year.  She’s become much friendlier towards me – in fact, noticeably follows me around the house if she’s not snoozing -  and will even occasionally jump down from her lofty perch atop the bookshelf and give visitors a bit of a sniff.  A far cry from the super grumpy, swipey, bitey kitten she was.  My theory is that it’s a combination of Oscar having moved in and the coming and going of various foster cats. While she’s not a particularly big fan of any other living creature, I think she finds it all rather curious and interesting…all these other ‘them cats’.  She loves to loathe Osc…and she’s just plain nosey too…

She does still have some of her wonderful quirks tho’.  Her obsession with the bathroom, for example.  She loves the shower. Loves to sit on the side of the bath. Still gives me a swipe of the paw as I climb into the shower and she’s mesmerised watching the water splashing around.  From time to time, she’ll sit alongside the dry side of the shower curtain so that she can feel the rush and splash of the water but stay nice and dry.  So cute!

As a grumpy kitten, the only time I could give her a tickle was when she was in the bathroom.  I could have her sit on my lap and tickle her just twice a day…after my shower in the morning and when I got home from work in the evening.  She’d eagerly jump onto my lap and sit and purr loudly as I’d tickle her around her ears.

I should point out, I’d have to be sitting on the loo.  I think part of the thing she enjoyed was my vulnerability at having my knickers around my ankles…

She’s got a ‘psycho’ purr at times too.  When she’s really, REALLY enjoying her tickle, she has another layer of purr…a kind of high pitched one, quivering and wavering over the deeper thrumming.  It sounds borderline hysterical…can be a little unnerving too…

She’s never ‘meowed’ much. In fact, I could probably count the number of meows on one hand…and, bloody hell, does it get a reaction from me! She just has to utter the quietest ‘meep’ and I leap up and dash over “What’s the problem, Poopy! What’s wrong?! Why are you meowing?!”  If she were able to raise a sardonic eyebrow and give a smug smile, she would…because she always just walks away with NO INDICATION AS TO WHY SHE MEOWED!!

She does chirrup…which is quite delicious.  Especially when Sean is around.  She seems to like to talk to Sean.  Sean has a most incredible ability to reproduce any sound he hears – it’s uncanny. So he’s able to copy the noises Freya makes.  In hindsight, that might make him the annoying kid in the playground who just repeats everything you say…

Freya: “bbbbrruppeep” (translated: Hello you guys.  I’m back from my wander around.)

Sean: “bbbbrruppeep” (translated: Hello you guys.  I’m back from my wander around.)

Freya: Why are you just repeating what I’ve said?

Sean: Why are you just repeating what I’ve said?

Freya: You’re being really irritating, you know…

Sean: You’re being really irritating, you know…

…and so on….

The one thing I’m looking forward to this evening tho’ is playing ‘catchers’ with Poopy….she’s just the BEST to play with.  She’ll sneak up whilst you’re in the kitchen and give a little chirrup.  The game is to then turn around menacingly…grrrrr….and she stands her ground…her tail going up all poofy and she gets ready to run. You then make a dash towards her and she LEGS it as fast as she can across the front room, through the conservatory, across the back yard…all the way to the back fence.  I generally only chase her as far as the back door.  Then you stop.  Then you look surprised and maybe do your best ham-actor terrified look. Then run towards the kitchen….usually to be overtaken by Freya charging past you, maybe giving your leg a swipe as she goes by.  You then stop.  Look menacing…and off she goes back across the length of the house and garden.  I often wonder what the neighbours make of it….the pair of us larking about….”Mavis, the nutter at Number 12 is being chased by her cat again…”

And then she’ll curl up on her blankie on my bed tonight…with her (still fave) beanie toys – Mr Tamatty Man (shaped like a tomato), Mr Quackles (duck) and Mr Bum Bum Bee (erm…bee)

….and every so often, she’ll bring one to my pillow during the night.  

I think she likes me.

That said, it could also be an ominous warning… Mr Bum Bum Bee’s head in the bed….oooeer….!

Freya has adored Sean from Day 1....her fave spot as a kikken

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

What do we want??! FOOD!  How do we want it??!  Well...now...

I’m all for protesting, me…aaaaall for it.  In fact, just last night, I appear to have signed up to dress up in a flesh-coloured suit, be doused in fake blood and lie in a heap with others, pretending to be a discarded carcass to protest against animal exploitation.  So, yup, ALL for it!  But, it seems, the critters in this house have absolutely no problems protesting and boycotting either…

Feeding times are fraught with this.  In the event of anything not to the liking of the cats, they scratch the floor next to the plate as if they’re trying to cover it with dirt.  I’d never seen this before in cats until Freya and Oscar…and it feels somewhat insulting!

Freya will only eat a particular brand of tuna flakes.  Absolutely no other wet food will be touched.  This stuff, of course, is expensive and not available in a local supermarket. It has to be ordered in.

She will also only eat particular biscuits.  The pricey, hypo-allergenic ones.  

She likes prawns.  Not ordinary prawns.  KING prawns.  Fresh – not frozen.  And they’d better not be more than a day or so old.  

And don’t even dare use a knife that’s been used to cut up Oscar’s chicken. That’ll have chicken-smell on it and she doesn’t like chicken (or any other meat) so won’t eat the carefully cut up king prawns, and will jump down from the counter positively bristling.

And then Oscar.  Bear in mind, he was a stray, living on scraps...well, Oscar isn’t the biggest fan of regular cat food. He doesn’t like the ridiculously expensive tuna flakes that are ordered in for Freya.  He pointedly scratches invisible dirt over the plate if he even passes Freya’s half-eaten plate (because, of course, she doesn’t eat ALL her food – just some of it.  And you can’t put leftovers in the fridge…don’t even GO there!)  

Oscar (the ex-hobo) is a fan of steamed chicken (prefers thigh meat to breast), baked fish pie mix and prawns (bless ‘im, he’ll eat defrosted normal prawns tho’ – hallelujah!).  But, BUT….you do also have to add a bag of cat food JUST IN CASE he’s in the mood for it. Because sometimes he is.  And he’ll scratch invisible dirt over the carefully prepared plate of steamed chicken, baked fish and prawns – and then give you a reproachful glare until you get a bag of cat food out.  But DON’T let the cat food and the fresh stuff mix too much on one plate, see, or he’ll walk away.

Then we have the Night Creatures.  

A while back, I started putting out some food for Jarvis The Hedgehog.  Then started putting out an extra plate of food for The Others as, oftentimes, I’d sneak the front door open to catch a glimpse of Jarvis and, instead, find a startled cat staring back at me with bits of food dripping from its gob.  So that meant an extra plate of food for The Others and Jarvis’s food dish tucked behind the black bin near his hedgehog house (that I don’t think he’s ever used).

Soon, I discovered a ‘regular’ Other turning up.  A small, tortie who looks older than Methuselah.  She appears to be going blind and her fur seems a little raggedy but she’s always sporting a pretty pink collar and ONLY ever pops round in the evening (around 11pm) for a nibble so I’m fairly confident she has a home somewhere.  I also think she’s going deaf because I’ve opened the door a couple of times and she’s been sitting there with her back to me. I’ll say hello and I get absolutely no response.

Actually, maybe she’s ignoring me for being late with her dinner….it’s entirely possible.

The volume at which she scolds me if I’m late, probably indicates how deaf she is too…blimey! For a little thing, she’s got a terrific set of lungs on her!

Yes, I get shouted at by a cat that isn’t mine if I’m late with her midnight feast that I don’t have to feed her.  

Only in my world.

And then, it turns out, Jarvis The Hedgehog has an opinion too.  

Of course he does!  

He prefers the wet cat food with EXTRA gravy.  If this is not correct, he will poo all over his plate.

He enjoys biscuits. Not the cheaper ones and not the PROPER (blummin’ pricey) hedgehog food.  He likes the expensive hypo-allergenic ones that Freya likes. If this is not correct, he will poo all over his plate.  Sometimes the front door step too.

He likes mealworms and peanuts.  But if he can’t finish them, he’ll poo all over them.

He gets a very carefully constructed plate prepared each evening so I don’t find myself lifting plates of hedgehog poo first thing in the morning. 

Currently, the only one in the house that’ll happily eat whatever’s on offer is the DARLING Finlay Foo-Foo-Baa, the Foster. Finlay will eat ANYTHING - and the more, the merrier.  The furry fella has a bottomless pit of a tummy...

Anyhow…looking forward to dressing up as a discarded animal carcass in a couple of weeks. At least I’ll be in London and not being shouted at by various critters back at home…!

“Please, Sir...may I have some more...?”

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

The hardest of goodbyes...

So.  

On Friday, we had little Bodi put to sleep.

I’m bloody, utterly, b**stard gutted….

Earlier that day, I’d posted a little video on Facebook.  Playing with Bodi.  We’d got into a regular habit of a little lark about with a couple of the ‘stringy sticks’.  I’d wave them about and she’d catch them….she LOVED to play.  

But, behind her, the wall was covered in smears of snot…which I couldn’t wash off because she still wouldn’t let me anywhere near her.  Anything closer than arm’s length and she would hiss and spit and her signature ‘See you, Jimmy!’ move in which she’d launch a mock attack.  Pretty scary.  But we were playing together and that was brilliant.  Her magnificent tail draped over the edge of her ‘throne’.

Nipped over to Marie’s to see a litter of kittens and was delighted to see Kendall and Alison there as well.  We’ve had a brief ‘lull’ in activities – a very short spell of quiet ahead of, what we’re expecting to be, yet another crazy kitten season.  As it is, we’ve had 3 litters…already.  

We all cooed over the 5 marvellous little creations delivered by Peaches on Wednesday.

It was great to catch up with the ladies.  There were lots of laughs, a few rants and heaps of laughter.  And we talked about Bodi and how she was getting along.

And then came the simple question:  can she be rehomed?

I winced….because I’d already asked myself this question and had already figured out the answer.  No.

I’ve been looking after her since Easter and all I had to show for it was being able to play with her – from arm’s length, with a stringy stick.  Anything closer and I was met with hissing and growling.  What new owner is going to want to take on a cat – a beautiful cat, mind – but take on a cat with no clear idea of when they’ll ever be able to tickle her, or pet her or her just, simply, have them not spit if they got too close?  Normal adoption was out of the question.

What other options did we have?

A farm/barn/stable/sanctuary?  

Her recurring flu’ meant neutering was out of the question.  She simply wouldn’t survive the anaesthetic.  

Even if she did miraculously make it through neutering, she’d not survive her next bout of flu’ living out in the open with her weak immune system.

And the herpes in her eye. I had already wondered how much sight she had left in it – the way the light caught it told me all wasn’t well there. Whilst the farms/stables we use for rehoming put down biscuits and water for the ferals, they’re still expected to make up the rest of their dinner themselves.  How would a cat with limited vision cope?

And small….she’s poorly, possibly blind in one eye and will have difficulty fending for herself amongst stronger, bigger cats.

We talked through all the issues but, whilst we could list all the problems, we were running woefully short on solutions.  

Then Marie added:  if she’s got herpes in her eye, she’s got to be in pain.  We all know what it’s like to have something stuck in our eye.  If it’s a bunch of blisters…well, that’s got to hurt.

I hadn’t even thought of that….

‘Pain’ had just thrown its hat into the ring…

I ventured:  And, want to check, drops of blood around the litter tray….that’s cystitis, isn’t it?

Yes.  Yes, it is.  Caused by extreme stress.

So, as comfy as I was trying to make my little wildcat, she was still stressed to the max.

Round after round of antibiotics. Yes, we could hide those in her meals but how to put drops in the eye of a feral?!

The question was tentatively proffered:  Should we put her to sleep?

I thought back to a night just earlier that week when we were playing with the stringy sticks. She’d caught it….then gave out an almighty sneeze.  I jumped. She jumped at me jumping and started to hiss and growl.  And, bless her, her little face was covered in snot.  She tried licking it off as quickly as she could whilst keeping an eye on me (me trying not to move) and my heart broke.  “Oh, Bodi, my little friend….are we doing right by you?”

I had already asked myself that question a few times.

And…as a group….all in various stages of tears by now…..that was our answer.  

We rolled it around some more.  Is there anything, ANYTHING we can do otherwise?  

But, now we had to consider the pain she might be in.  Flu’, herpes, cystitis.  And we had no idea what else might be going on inside the little thing.

The decision was made. It would be best to put the little gal to sleep.  

I won’t bore you with the details of the 3 hour after that….the appointment made at the vet for 4.15pm.  Marie offering to just pick Bodi up from mine and save me the agony of being there…but me thinking I’d want to be there…I owed Bodi that much…  

Me feeding Bodi a last meal of a plate of chicken….and staring out of the window and crying and waiting for collection time.

Bodi, as if sealing her own fate, leaving a bloody snot trail across the remains of her chicken dish.

Marie was my second opinion but took one look at the eye and said it had gone.  Perhaps much of her snarling and hissing was sheer terror at not being able to see?

Getting Bodi into the carrier was traumatic…she wasn’t having any of it be she half blind, full of flu’ and cystitis or not.  Poor Marie got scratched for her efforts.

Vet was the third opinion. She immediately suggested the eye be taken out but, after listing all the other issues – including her feral behaviour -  she sadly…so sadly….shook her head.

And then it was done.

I cried a LOT Friday evening.  Marie drove me home and was just so amazing.  I had texts and calls – Kendall and Alison and Patsy.  Sean was my sound, solid rock.. Follow up texts from Marie.  No matter how we sliced it – any of us, all of us – we simply couldn’t come up with an alternative option.  Pain came up trumps every time.

We had done something utterly against everything we try to do.  

Or…had we?  

We try to make an animal’s life better…

Perhaps sometimes that means letting that life go.

Woke up with bags under that eyes that would carry a month’s shopping and heaps of recriminations. What if….what if….what if I’d tried harder to get closer to Bodi rather than being a yellow chicken?  What if I’d taken her to the vet at the very first sign of another re-infection….might THAT round of antibiotics have been the one to quash the infections?  What if….what if….

But – ultimately – I still can’t find an alternative ending to the course we chose. 

Every likelihood was that Bodi was in pain.  She was feral and going blind.  And her immune system simply wasn’t coping.  

I believe – in my heart and past all the tears I’m still crying whilst typing this – we finally did right by her in putting her to sleep.

The support I’ve had from the team has been incredible.  They always HAVE been incredible and they always HAVE been supportive….but this has shown me just what an awesome crew they are.  I have so much love for those gals, it’s….well, it’s enough to start me crying again.

I’ve spent several hours scrubbing down Bodi’s bedroom today.  Her flu’ has meant a lot of toys being chucked out and a shed-load of bleach washing everything else.  Another scrub of the carpets tomorrow.  All the beds and bedding hanging out to dry.  

And then I’ll wait for the call for my next foster cat.  Please Gods, don’t let me break the next one….

For those who know I’m a kook, you’ll understand when I say that it feels like Bodi is still here.  

Perhaps, despite the suffering, she decided that this was a good place to call home.

But finally…finally….she’s at peace.

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

Sunday...just some mellow musings

More thoughts than funnies today….

Sitting here this morning looking forward to another really relaxing Sunday. Utter bliss.  Had one last weekend and SAVOURED every moment of it!  Then, another crazy week flew by and now sitting here just enjoying the peace…and the peace and quiet of the day planned.  

Oscar has returned from his overnight jaunt and is sitting on the couch next to me giving himself an all-over groom.  I’ve finally found a food he LOVES.  Of course, it costs and arm and a leg and is an absolute nuisance to get a hold of…but he ADORES it and his coat has come up all silky and shiny.

Still can’t get at the two blummin’ mattes forming on either side of his neck. Managed to snip half of one of them yesterday afternoon when he was lounging on the sitting room table.  

I’ve got a pair of scissors hidden underneath and I always try for a quick pick n’ snip.  Of course, there’s so much fluffy fur that there’s little that’s ‘quick’ about it.  More like, fumbling around in all his neck and bib fur while he starts to wake up and the tail starts to twitch.  Find the offending clump and try go for a snip by which point his head has come up and now the unbelievably long whiskers are in the way!  By this point, the tail is REALLY going so you take the plunge. Maybe get two millimetres of matte before earning yourself a bite.  He doesn’t bite hard, bless ‘im – it’s usually more of a warning shot across the bow – but it’s clear that there’s not going to be any more messing with his fur, or else.  So he’s still got a humdinger and a half dangling from neck.  

Freya is prowling around the garden this morning and, periodically, the front room…where she’ll sit and glare at Oscar from a safe distance.  I have every faith she’s not thinking nice thoughts about him.  That said, having a full belly means Oscar is less inclined to bother her.  God help me if I’m too slow getting his dinner out – he’ll tease and chase Freya all over the house until his plate is out.  Him loving this new food is BRILLIANT because he’ll even sit by the kitchen door waiting for it rather than lumbering about the house annoying Freya. She’ll stand her ground from time to time and it does put the frighteners on.  Puts the frighteners on me when she’s in a mood!  

She had a go at me this morning, in fact.  I wanted a long lie in – she didn’t.  It wasn’t going to end well.  Ironically, these days it’s because she wants fussing rather than, historically, wanting to be left alone!

I’ve been reading a rather delicious book at the moment ‘The Lion In the Living Room’.  It’s about cats, of course, and the rise of the domestic cat at, tragically, the same time as the rapid decline of the big cats.  I’ve read, in several books, about all domestic cats descending from the felis silvestris lybica (African Wildcat) but I only thought to Google a picture recently.  Oh, my days….the similarity of Freya’s colouring to the Wildcat is remarkable…right down to her black and grey banded tail.  Even more similar is the Scottish Wildcat.  Felis silvestris grampia – or, in Freya’s case, ‘grumpier’.  Can’t help but look at her when she’s in a mood and hear her saying ‘See YOU, Jimmy!?!!’  And, I should add, throughout Freya’s wonderful tabby markings, there’s a beautiful ginger wash….she’s a very, very pretty (if very short tempered) little cat.

Talking of wildcats, I’m hearing little Bodi playing upstairs.  Bodiccea – my little warrior princess.  STILL can’t get anywhere near her.  She hisses and spits exactly as much as she did when she first arrived. Only she’s much healthier now. Most of the wheezing has faded.  I find she only wheezes if I hang around too long or try to get too close.  So I think stressing her brings it on.  She also makes a most enjoyably peculiar warning sound – part Wookie, part no-idea….a deep “Grrrroooooo” noise.  I keep being reminded of one of the Star Wars vehicles but can’t, currently, put my finger on it.  Closest is the pod-racers…but that’s too high-pitched…Anyway, she LOVES to play and I think that’ll be how I eventually win her over.  LOVES her crinkle balls and little mice.  Loves to sit on the window-sill – either excitedly watching birds or laid back just watching the world go by.  I’ve even seen her washing herself, sitting on the window-sill.  And she’s got a most wonderfully fluffy tail. But me….nope, no thank you, on your way ‘hoo-man’ – want nowt to do with you…..Ah well, I’m patient.  She’s going to take a long time, methinks.  

S’funny – I’ve REALLY missed The Girls.  And – gosh, tearing up thinking about them – still do.  They were the most amazingly affectionate little characters.  That said, it’s great having the peace and quiet back!  I’ve had a couple of contacts from the wonderful folk that took them in.  The Girls have settled in very well and very quickly….and, underwritten in all their notes, is the level of chaos now going on in the house. ADORABLE little cats!  

Right….that was just a few thoughts I wanted to put down.  Haven’t done a blog for a while and wanted to get one out…but things have felt a little too busy and a little too serious of late.  Interesting times ahead.  Officially unemployed now and not REALLY looking forward to the job-hunting process…but it was totally my decision to leave last role.  Have a telephone interview lined up next week for a very well-known company – but the interview process is notoriously difficult and awkward and, since getting the interview confirmed, have had weird interview dreams every single night.  Like the one in which everyone was settling down as tho’ at a meeting and the interviewer asked me why I hadn’t handed out the fire retardant badges to each member of the meeting.  “It’s for health and safety reasons, you know.”….spent the rest of the dream frantically trying to find fire-retardant badges!  Last night, was supposed to be doing my interview test and got stuck behind someone trying to move a chest of drawers down a stairwell.  Indeed.

I’ve already signed up for an extra afternoon in the charity shop next week to try keep things ‘balanced’ – I have SUCH a laugh in the shop!  If I could pick up the shop, the people in it, add my best Boss and move it to this high-profile, well-paying company – gosh, I’d even have special fire-retardant badges MADE for that!

“Grrrroooooooo...”*  

*Translated: Go’way...!

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

Weeeee’re coming OUT so you better get this party started...!

Well, It’s been a long time since I’ve had a kitten in the house.  And I’ve NEVER had two at the same time – but Chaos and Mayhem have officially taken over.  It’s bedlam here!  And yet SOOOOOO entertaining at the same time.  Flora, is by far and away the biggest clown.  EVERYTHING is a toy and there’s much comedy scrambling and skidding about the place.  Gina likes to ‘capture’ things and run back upstairs to their bedroom loudly announcing her prizes.  Both have a knack for being right in the way of every step I try to take.  If I go quiet, I’ve fallen over one of them and gone down the stairs.  No need to rush, I’ll be ample food for all of them for a goodly few days.

If one goes missing for a minute, the quickest way to find her is to stroke the other one.  This starts up a loud Harley-Davidson type purr. The other one immediately scampers to her side to get a cuddle too.  Cuddle Competitiveness, see?

And you’ve no idea how many times I’ve had to delete Flora’s big-footed, keyboard additions to this post…

Freya and Oscar have surprised me.  Mostly because I expected their reactions to be the other way around.  Freya’s taken to chasing the girls back up the stairs whenever they annoy her enough.  I’ve always seen Freya as small but, compared to these two, she’s quite a…um… ‘sturdy lass’. She barrels up the stairs after the girls, waggling her front paws around like a giant, demented, mackerel-tabby crab.  

I can only imagine Freya is finally enjoying a form of ‘payback’ for Oscar chasing her about the place for (nearly) a year.

But Oscar has REALLY surprised me.  He’s become a right sulky grump.  OK, he’s never good in the mornings.  That I know. DON’T wake him.  DON’T try to stroke or cuddle him.  Breakfast – well, some mornings, yes; some mornings, no. But, the last couple of days, he’s been a grumpy-pants ALL THE TIME!  I don’t get greeted at all and any attempt at a tickle, will earn me a swipe. “Whaaaaat?!” I’m protesting loudly – a lot – when I’m getting a random swipe, “I haven’t even DONE anything!”

He’s been eating but staying out a lot.  At first I thought it might be his bad belly.  With that amount of fur, of course he’ll suffer hairballs.  Big, long things.  About the length and width of my finger.  So he’ll go off his food for a day or so and then his appetite returns…and you’ll find something alien regurgitated somewhere random.  

This time tho’, eating but still grumpy.  So I de’flead and de’wormed everyone…myself included – have you ever TRIED using that Broadline?!  Terrific to have it all in one mix but if you’re a bit ham-fisted and clumsy as I am with those little syringes.  Well, no fleas and worms on me….that’s for sure.

He was still in a grump last night.

This morning, determined to try lie-in as long as possible, I let Freya out of my room but didn’t go downstairs.  Just went back to bed.  You can lie there and count the beats….one, Mississippi…two, Mississippi…thr….WARK!! MAAAAAAWOW!! **crash, clatter**  MAAAAAAAARRGGHH!!  WARK!! 

Oscar chasing Freya.  

**Sigh!** Get out of bed and mutter angrily down the stairs : “Blummin’ cut it out you two!  I’m not telling you again!”  Freya dashes off and clatters noisily onto her bookshelf. Oscar glares at me from the bottom of the stairs.

“Well, do you want to come in for a cuddle Mr Grump-tastic?  I’m NOT getting out of bed just yet!”

He stomps up and slinks past me into the bedroom.  I get back into bed and I realise that Oscar probably just wants a bit of attention. The girls are getting LOADS because they’re funny and crazy.  Freya is getting heaps because I always worry she’s the one that’ll get fed up and run off. But poor Oscar wants some attention too. He ker-klangs onto the windowsill (he’s not the most elegant of climbers).

I get out of bed and go and start all the breakfasts….the girls and Freya and Geezer Cat from Number 1. Then make Oscar up a Fat Boy Special Breakfast, grab his favourite stringy toy and head back upstairs.  And just spend some time with the big fella. Before long, we’ve already played Monsters Under the Duvet and, his particularly favourite rough-n’-tumble game “Aaaaaah’m gonnaaaaaa tickleyourbelly-tickleyourbelly-tickleyourbelly!”  This can only be played with long sleeves but I still will come out with a few scratches anyway…and I’m going to leave him in my bedroom for the day.  A little peace and quiet. No crazy girls nicking his toys and charging about the place.  He was snoozing gently when I last checked on him….and he lifted his head and gave me a long, lazy blink.  Happy Oscar….

And now fending off crazy little cats, typing this and looking at a house in complete disarray.  Freya’s been for a wander outside and has come back, chased the girls upstairs then, with a triumphant swagger, headed for her bookshelf where she’s giving herself a good wash.  It’s a kind of crazy calm…wouldn’t have it any other way…. 

PLAY with uuuuuuuuus....!!

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

Fwends!

Enjoying a (relatively) quiet Sunday morning.  About to try making some ‘eggy bread’ with a vegan alternative – VeganEgg.  Have to say, I doubt I’ll buy it again.  It’s pretty expensive, has a ridiculously short shelf life (especially for the amount in the packet), requires ice cold water to make it up but, worst of all, smells like raw egg.  URGH!

So one last attempt to win me over.  Fat Girl Breakfast coming up….vegan sausages and vegan eggy bread….

Been a busy week – with the highlight of The Girls finally coming out of the bedroom.  Now I can’t keep them IN!!  

They were chipped and neutered on Tuesday – and were larking about like mad by Tuesday evening.  They’re due a check up on Monday….really hope their stitches are OK!  They’ve been leaping about the place like crazies.

Well, to be more accurate, they’ve been leaping about the place like kittens.  They’re finally able to be kittens.  They are bonkers ….but it’s SO wonderful to watch.

I’m trying to keep them away from Oscar and Freya….so a fair bit of herding.  I’m used to keeping Oscar and Freya apart as much as possible to stop their bickering, so it’s not too much of a bind.

Freya, if she spots The Girls, will chase them up the stairs.  Then runs away.  She must seem pretty fearsome to them because they’ve run OVER me on one occasion when I was sitting on the stairs playing with them and Freya appeared out of nowhere.

Oscar, still labouring under the misapprehension that Flora is in love with him, bothers her the most. Usually, an indignant ‘MEEP!’ from Flora is what alerts me to Oscar having snuck past me and I shoo him away from her.  He wanders off confused as to why she’s playing SO hard to get.  

’m surprised her hormones have settled that quickly.  Perhaps she just had a mad moment last week.  Either way, she’s ‘safe’ now….was ever so pleased that both Flora AND little Gina were fit, well and weighing enough for their op.  But that, effectively, ruins it for Oscar and his potential ‘girlfriend’.

Turns out, Oscar might have one pal tho’.  This news both gladdened me and had me apologising profusely to the other cat’s owner.

Found this out just a couple of days after I’d felt really sorry for the Big Lad.  I watched him try to play with ‘Geezer Cat’.  He’s from Number 1, a huge, mega-relaxed 15-year old tabby and likes to stop by mine for any leftovers.  Oscar barrelled out the front door as I was taking the bins out and he charged up to Geezer Cat, his tail up high in greeting.  Geezer Cat sat down and Oscar started to bounce around on the lawn in front of him.  Oscar batted a crocus, swatted some grass and did some more leaping about.  Geezer Cat looked bored and got up and started to wander off.  Oscar bounded up to him again, caught some more grass and leapt about some more.  It wasn’t enough to stop Geezer Cat….he sauntered off home.  Oscar sat in the grass watching him go.  Looked around for anyone else to play with then, dejected, wandered over to sit in a cardboard box left outside by the next door neighbour.  Oh, my poor furry friend.

My other next door neighbour, Ray, was going to be on his own for much of the week.  He’s 86 and very frail.  His daughter, Sue, normally spends a goodly chunk of the day with him but she was due to be in Birmingham for the week – her husband’s mum had passed away.  She asked if I’d look in on him in the evenings – have a cup of coffee and keep him company for a bit.  

First day I’ve popped round, Henry swings by.  Henry is a 10-year old FANTASTICALLY HANDSOME big black cat.  My heart always clenches when I see him as he reminds me so much of my Big Sid.  Ray starts chatting away about Henry and I mention my two.  

“A big fluffy one, you say?” enquires Ray.  

“Yes, VERY fluffy”, I say. “Big feet, HUGE tail, bit daft.”

“Ah,” says Ray, “Yes, I know him.  He comes in through Henry’s cat flap and eats his biscuits.”

“What??!!��� I’m horrified and start apologising like mad.  “Shoo him off, Ray!”

“Oh, it’s no bother,” says Ray, “I don’t mind. I like cats and it’s nice to see Henry has a friend.”

“A friend?!  They’re friends??! ….the Big Guy has a friend??!!”

Not sure a pal who nicks your biscuits is, necessarily, a GOOD friend…but I’ll take what I can get.

Will drop some cat biscuits ‘round at Ray’s to make up for the pilfering.

Zzzzzzzz....

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

Never ending fun n’ games...

Was wondering why Flora was being a little braver than usual last night.  She ventured out the room again…a little bolder than before…and before long was racing back and forth between my bedroom and her bedroom.  And she took AGES to settle down last night. In the end, I had to go in and sleep on their floor again….shushing Flora every time she started to hop around the room.

(You have some weird dreams sleeping on the floor, I tell you…)

This morning, all became clear.  She’s come into season.  And, BOY, is she in the mood!

On the one hand, it’s terrific news.  These little gals are (guesstimates) around a year old but they’ve been so underfed and restricted in movement, they’re still really small.  But, with regular feeding, they’ve poofed up beautifully and now, it seems, Flora’s body thinks it’s time to have kittens.

Omigiddyaunt….the noises she’s been making!  The sort you only get on those late late channels…

And poor Oscar is as confused as hell….!

I had to separate them. More for his sanity than hers…..actually she won’t have much sanity at ALL at the mo’….

“But….but….she LOVES me!  She said so!! Look, she’s flirting with me!! LOOK!”

Oh, Big Fluffy Dude….I’m so, so sorry.  She doesn’t love you.  And she’d flirt with a frying pan if she thought it would do her any good…

So she’s booked in for her spay and chip first thing Tuesday morning.  See if Gina is big enough yet too and get her sorted at the same time….save her the agony of suddenly finding herself fancying Oscar!  :-)

Gina is FULL of disapproving stares for Flora….”Sorry???  You think Oscar is cute??  OSCAR??!  Mr Chewy-Boxy-Fall-Over-His-Own-Feeties Oscar??!  Dis. A. Pointed, Flora…!”

So it’s going to be a rather hilarious few days.  I’ll have to move the girls to the kitchen during the night or there will be no rest for anyone.  And this place is getting locked down like Fort Knox.  Next door’s ginger cat has just ‘happened’ to find himself in the garden twice already…

“She LOVES me! YEAH, yeah, yeah....!”

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

...Ouch..!

Wow!  Been a bit blowy out!  Storm Doris, eh?  Doris sounds like such a ‘gentle’ name.  Not stormy at all.  Demeter or Desdemona…now THEY sound blowy.  

Took 4 hours to get home this evening – trains screwed – and if it weren’t for my Superhero Sean, it would have been costly taxi too.  Knackered, himself, after a day at work AND football training, he drove all the way out to the one station I could get to and drove me home. THAT’S love, that is… (Happy Jo…!)

Anyhow, so I’m looking a bit like I’ve had a run-in with Wolverine today….well, OK…perhaps a BIT of an exaggeration….but, I’ve got a bit of a fat lip, sore front teeth and several angry scratches on my neck, hand and arm.

Got soundly head-butted by Freya last night.  But, I’m just relieved my (very expensive!) front teeth are still in place.

Blummin’ Oscar!  

He’d been having a fun ol’ evening.  I’m trying to encourage Gina and Flora out of their bedroom but only Flora is currently interested in this exercise.  

Osc had been playing the goofball while Flora was having a bit of an explore around my bedroom.  He was rolling around and trying to get her attention.  She was more interested in the sights and sounds than some  smelly boy. I was sitting on the landing between my bedroom and her bedroom and every so often, she’d come skipping back to me for a cuddle and bit of reassurance.  

All was going swimmingly until Flora decided to check out Oscar’s snug. Suddenly, he was up and over there in a flash.  As if to say, “That’s MY bed!”, he batted her bottom as it was sticking out of the snug. She bounced up and came dashing over to me. It was getting rather late by then so decided it was time to tidy up and head for bed.  Flora went back to her room and I left Oscar checking and re-checking his snug that ‘some girl’ hadn’t messed it up.  

And then, for SOME reason, he hid under the bed….  

I went back up to my room to get into jim-jams and Freya followed. She hopped onto her blankie on my bed and I sat down next to her to give her a little tickle.  D’aaawww…she started to purr….

All of a sudden, Oscar LEAPS out from under the bed!  It startled me - but absolutely spooked the bejeezuz out of Freya who leapt right into the air. Only my face was in the way, wasn’t it?

Her head hit me SMACK in the gob and, in the ensuing tangle, she scratched me on the hands and neck trying to scramble away OVER ME.  

Oscar runs BACK under the bed in shock.  Freya dashes out of the bedroom.  I’m left checking my teeth.  

Ow….!!

I went down to check on her.  She was in her usual spot – on top of the bookcase – glaring at me. Clearly, all my fault.  But she seemed OK despite her head crashing into my face ….

I put lavender on the scratches but they still look a bit angry today and the teeth are sore but must be the weirdo in me that keeps finding it funny.  The look on Oscar’s face as he leapt out from under the bad “Ta-DAH!”, the look on Freya’s face as she bounced into the air (and me!) and look on Oscar’s face as he dashed back under the bed having given himself a fright giving us a fright!

…and REALLY relieved the teeth aren’t wobbly….phew! And...really happy to be home (thanks again, Sean!) ....and, blimey, the fence is still standing!!

 ....checking and re-checking his snug...

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

The folk that REALLY matter...

Urgh…

Got a bit of a prod from a troll this morning.  Nothing that a slightly thicker-skinned person wouldn’t have just shrugged off but, in my world of cats, pink bubbles and unicorns, it came as a bit of a shock.  I had made the video of little Gina playing ‘public’ on Facebook in order to try share it on another FB page and forgot to change it back.  

Someone added a comment: “You steal cats, devil.” (Considerably less punctuation and capitalisation, etc…but I’m not stooping to their level… :-)

So, not the nastiest thing that’s ever been said in the history of trolling,  but I didn’t expect it and it immediately got my tummy churning – and wondering again about the random stranger that enquired about Oscar last week.  

Deleted the comment, immediately ramped up my privacy settings and blocked the person - as well as the stranger from last week.  But still felt very vulnerable.

I don’t steal cats.  And I didn’t steal Oscar.  And it upset me that someone would think that I would/could steal cats and, more importantly, that someone found me on Facebook and thought it OK to post that comment.

Like I said, I’m a bit fluffy…I want everyone to be nice to each other…(and animals!)

So it sat badly with me for the rest of the morning.  And I worried about Oscar again.  And someone trying to take him off me.  

Chatted to Alison, our Branch Manager, who suggested it might have been someone who has had a cat confiscated from them in the past.  And is still disgruntled about it.  That’s very likely…

After much sighing to try clear the tight squeeze in my chest and stomach, decided to take a wander and pick up some lunch.  More sighing….more “Let it go….let it GO!!” **

Heading back to the office, I bumped into an old work colleague.  Big hug and smiles – checking how each other was getting on and then he says “Can’t wait to see your next installment! It’s great!”

Awwww….y’know, that was ALL I needed!  Just a big bear hug and smile and to hear someone is enjoying the updates.  

We chatted about his BEAUTIFUL cats and his one much-loved rescue cat now starting to show signs of age….and then we were both on our way.   

Thank you, Universe….bumping into Ian was JUST what I needed!

Spring back in my step...b*gger off back under yer bridge, Troll!  And I’m not entertaining any more strangers asking about Oscar, either…. 

So, thank you, Ian – yes, that’s YOU, Ian!  BIG HUGS – you made my day fluffy again… x

 **that song’s in your head now, innit??  Heheheh!

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

Poo-ee!

By far and away, my favourite ‘chore’ on the weekend is the Big Clean of the spare bedroom that is home to the foster cats.  Particularly brilliant at the moment because Gina and Flora are just such bonkers fun!

Each morning, the room is brushed up of all discarded food and bits of litter tray debris.  The trays are changed once or twice a day but each weekend there’s a Big Clean.  And that involves opening windows, brushing the room out (by dustpan and brush, as the girls still will not leave the room), changing all the bedding and rotating the toys (to prevent boredom…or, in the case of Gina and Flora, complete destruction of said toys).

So there I am this afternoon, on all fours giving the room a vigorous brushing…pulling out boxes and bedding.  There are biscuits and bits of white litter particles in every single blummin’ corner. The biscuit bowl is FOREVER being knocked over while they crash about and I firmly believe one or the other is just sitting in the litter tray and flinging bits of litter at whoever isn’t in the tray…  

All the while, the gals are frolicking about….they both fit neatly under me as I’m brushing so I’m headbutted, kissed and pawed at as I go.

I move all the feather stick toys from the floor to the desk and this is an immediate ‘call to arms’ ….”Flora! Flora!  The Sticky Stick has been kidnapped.  Let’s GET IT BACK!” and there’s much scampering, sliding, skidding and skedaddling to get the feather sticks back to where they belong…on the floor.  

But, today, just as I’ve brushed out all the corners around the tray and replaced it with brand new litter tray, Flora starts to have a good old sniff around.  Then, after a few ‘himfs’, she clambers into the tray.  A brief attempt to dig all the way to Australia and then she squats…and I can see it’s going to be a Number Two….so shuffle back with my brush and pan and give her a little room.

Ohmigiddyaunt…..

So it starts with a little squit and a LOT of smelly wind.  Followed by a TON of squit.  Poor little mite.  Bad tummy.  But, as I’m sitting there on the floor, I’m wracking my brains on what’s changed over the last day or so to give her the squits.  

Blimey!  Smell hits me!  It’s already hit Gina….she’s now behind Flora, digging away, trying to cover the stuff up as it’s coming out…

“Oh, Little Thing…oh, bad tummy, Little Thing.  You’re all right!  Just don’t….just don’t ….”

The flood stops.  Flora turns around to look and steps into the quagmire of ginger goo….

“….just don’t….oh….STAND in it…”  **sigh**

With lightning speed, I reach for Flora…but the gal is faster than lightning…and hops out the tray.

I try for another grab….while reaching for the wet wipes.  I’ve only been doing this since September but I’ve learned fast and have an array of goodies for all eventualities!

Our little spider monkey gal can move.  She’s hopped from around the tray to across the room….poo everywhere.

“Flora, sweetie…let me just….”  Another grab, another bounce.

“Fl….”  And off she scampers.

“Honey, just stop a sec….” back around the room to the start point.

There are ginger-poo-paw-prints around most of the room by the time I can catch her and give her feet a good ol’ wipe.  Had to catch her twice because she so thick in it…

And then she darts off and sits near the concertina file – just in case.  But still purring.  Because that’s what these girls do…they are just SO loving.  

“Right….OK….right”, I sigh and go downstairs for some carpet shampoo.

Can’t be mad tho’ because it means spending a while longer with the little scamps…! Y’know….’chores’ n’ all…. :-) 

[howtobeacrazycatlady]

Himf!

Bit of an early start again this morning.  The Girls were in fine fettle at 3.30am.  This, as early as it sounds, wasn’t a problem as we’d had another go at leaving Oscar out overnight.  Well, to be fair, I waited up for him ‘til just after midnight and then had a little rant “Right, that’s IT big fella!  That’s IT!  I’m going to BED!”  ���.this is whispered through clenched teeth out the front and back doors because it’s midnight and I don’t want the neighbours thinking I’m a looney, yes?

So the girls start crashing about in the spare bedroom in the wee hours and I’m immediately out of bed and down the stairs to open the back door for Osc.  Amazingly, he comes right in…!  He shouts his greetings and sashays past, heading for the kitchen.  So I’m not getting a cuddle but I’m not getting glared at this time.  Good…good!

More crashing around upstairs from the girls as I’m emptying a baggie out for Oscar.

He’s forgotten about grub and is staring up the stairs towards the racket in the spare room and, after a particularly juicy bit of scratching followed by a hearty thud, runs up the stairs to investigate.  I follow with his food and put his in my room but I’ve got some for the girls as well…see if I can sweet-talk them into some quiet.

These two have mastered the fine art of a blummin’ good greeting!  Gina is standing on the chair and Flora is half on the windowsill and half on a box next to it.  Both turn and chirrup and jump down (loudly) and come running over purring like mad.  

What’s not to love about that??  Sometimes I go in and visit them just to get that sort of ‘hello!!’

I sit and fuss them a bit. “What’s the likelihood of you girls going back to sleep for a bit, eh?”  Lots of purring….but, at the same time, they’re both eyeing up their toys.

Get up and go….Freya is half way up the stairs looking grumpy.  Freya does not like her routines messed up.

More thudding from the spare room….

“Right….Osky-Poop-Face, I’m closing you in here for a bit…going to see if letting the girls out for a wander might quieten them down…” and I shut him in my room.

“OK girls….the place is yours….”

Freya and I head downstairs and I curl up on the couch to try get a big more sleep.

A blissful calm….and, yes, doze clean off….

Aaaaand then woken by Flora and Gina chirruping at each other.  They chat away, they do….it’s a cute ‘himf’ noise.  Back and forth…they’ve not gone for a wander at all.  They’re still in their bedroom.  

The pair seem a bit agoraphobic.  Took ages for them to even venture onto the windowsill.

They start chasing each other around the room….

Up off the couch and head upstairs.  “Ladies….now….”  

BIG GREETING!  HELLO!!  LOTS OF PURRING!  Can’t help myself – I’m back on the floor again giving them a fuss…they’re so SOFT!  So PURRY!

It’s 20 to 5.  The alarm goes off at 5….I’m tickling Gina and thinking that if I catch the late train I can probably snooze until 20 past 5. It’s worth a go…

As I’m heading down the stairs, the girls are ‘himfing’ at each other some more.  

Jump onto the couch, curl up.

“….himf!...grrroooo!….himf himf!!”  Start chasing each other again….one crashes into the biscuit bowl.

“Girls!! ….I’m going to make slippers out of the pair of you!”

Silence for….oh…about 5 seconds…

“HIMF!!  HIMF!  Wark!  Grrrooo…Himf himf!!” ….window blind clatters, sounds like one of them falls off the desk.  Water bowl gets knocked into the side of the cupboard.

Freya starts scratching in the corner behind the front door.  That means she’s just had a Protest Pee.  

Get up off the couch and wrap up the puppy pad she’s peed on and put it in the bin.  (LOVE puppy pads, me!)

Back onto couch.  

Oscar starts shouting from my room.

Get up….let Oscar out.

….give up and head for the girls’ room.

BIG HELLO!!  BIG GREETING!!  BIG PURRS!  

Can’t help myself....  

Sit with the girls enjoying mega-cuddles ….catch the very, VERY late train…x