Once more to Carol's to pick up two young males for neutering. At her gate one of them breaks out of the carrier and shoots off down the road before I can even react. I follow him for about fifty years when he darts between houses and disappears. I'm utterly shocked and saddened. I've failed that little cat.
I get the other one to the vets and was going to go swimming then but I'm so down about the escaped cat that I just can't summon any enthusiasm or energy and instead go and deliver two neutering vouchers. This proves more complicated than I expected as in one court-like area where I'm looking for No.12, the logical place is on a corner from No.11 but the house there has no number and the house next door is 14. A couple of passersby can't help me so I approach the gate of 11 which has a 'Beware of the Rottweiler' hanging from it and as I raise the latch I find out why.
Barking loudly, a massive rotty hurtles towards the gate, plonks its paws on the top and continues barking into my face. But it's all show. Its owner arrives and tells me he just barks at strangers and within a minute I'm petting him -the rottweiler that is, not its owner. Turns out that there is no No.13 and the house without a number is in fact 12.
That done, I return home where Susan already knows about the escaped cat courtesy of a phone call from Carol. It's 9.30. Just after 10.15 I pick up Andrea and her four bunnies to take them all to the vets. Here they are. I'm the one with several chins.
The bunnies are all okay so we then go to visit a couple to finalise their adoption of Sky the 3-month old collie pup. He's a lovely friendly and lively dog in a very friendly and lively chewy stage which he proves by attempting to eat my hands and my face. And here he is.
After dropping Andrea and her bunnies off I call in at Asda on the way home to get more cat food for Carol as I every intention of spending a week in Lanzarote starting on Thursday and have to get her two weeks supply.
Mid-afternoon and I call in at the shop to pick up some Drontol flea killer from Andrea for Carol and ring the vets about the cat as I'm intending to pick it up shortly. Turns out it's been bleeding a little and they want to keep it another couple of hours to make sure it's okay. That piece of news following on from the escape of its brother makes me feel a little flat and it's an effort to go back to Asda to pick up cat litter (which I forgot to do earlier) and then take it to Lilian at Silksworth (see earlier posts), a lady with special needs whom we gave a cat to. All is well with the cat.
Eventually I manage to get to the vets and pick up the cat which is fine, unhappy and loudly letting everyone know it, but fine, and drop it, the Drontol, and the food off at Carol's. On the way home I treat myself to an Indian takeaway which proves to be blander than I expected.
Tomorrow morning I'm dropping the van off for a service and an MOT, the rest of the day is mine, and on Thursday I'm off to Lanzarote. Normal service will be resumed in about ten days when I hope to have photos of days-old kittens and their mother.
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