Saturday, 5 January 2013


I'm normally an early riser, six to six thirty being the norm for me. Until this winter when I sleep longer. So long it hasn't been unknown for me not to get out of bed until as late as 8 o'clock or even 8.30. Plus I tend to be tired all the time. When a couple of years ago I jokingly suggested to my doctor that I might be SAD (as in Seasonal Affective Disorder), rather than laugh at me, she agreed. This morning I got up at 6.30, performed the usual routines (sort out the varying needs of nine cats), breakfast, check email and news online, have a bath. Then I thought sod it and went back to bed for an hour.

I woke up at half nine and rushed out to drive halfway across the city to feed the cats I'm looking after and clean their cat litter. After that it was walk the dog. Not my dog. My dog is distinguished by the fact that it doesn't exist. No, every time my brother and sister in law go away for the day, I walk their dog, an elderly female Cavalier King Charles spaniel which doesn't like me. She a rescued dog and the general opinion is that I remind of someone she knew when she was as a breeding machine by some scumbag of a dog breeder. I wouldn't say all dog breeders are scumbags, but ... I think I've said enough on that subject.

Then at noon I met a family who were interested in adopting a cat. Unfortunately this proved to be a misunderstand in that they were really looking for a kitten or a very young adult cat. All ours are at least a year old. Still, nice people.

Back home and I'd just finished my lunch when I got another call from someone who'd read my blog (see, it's not just you) and was very interested in Hector and Harriet. I arranged to meet them at two o'clock and they duly turned up promptly at 2.30, seconds before I was going to leave. (Maybe they thought I lived there rather than having to drive halfway across the city.) Glad I did, though. Father and 18 year old student daughter who came over as real animal lovers and experienced with cats -their old one had only recently died. Once they got their hands on the two cats there was no question they'd taken them. All our cats are friendly but H & H are just friendly. Susan had called round the previous day and she'd commented on how affectionate they were. The girl was so delighted she even gave me a hug and that doesn't happen to me very often. Good home for two lovely cats. Result.

On the way back I called in at the home of the five cats (see above). Then back home to walk the dog. Just after tea, a social worker rang from the hospital. The cats' owner was getting agitated about the state and safety of her cats. I made sure the social worker knew that they were in safe hands.

Bye bye Harriet and Hector.

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