The Cat Herd

You've all heard the expression about things being as easy as herding cats, but this is a bit different.

I have known and loved a number of Welsh Border Collies in my life and seeing these dogs work is such a pleasure; let's not forget Corgis, who really are herding dogs, though the only thing they seem to be associated with now is Brenda. I have a cat with herding instincts.

"Cats don't herd!" I hear you wail; oh yes they do! Bertie, the more outgoing and adventurous of the new cats, has started to herd Kim. It normally kicks off at 8.30 British Summer Time, when Bertie is keen to break his fast, but since the clocks going back, and Bertie not having a wristwatch, it now begins at 7.30 GMT.

First, you hear the thundrous galloping of paws up and down the stairs, followed by claws dug into carpet to assist with cornering, then a scrabble, and a loud:

"Oughff!"

More scrabbling and claws in carpet, a pause, galloping down the sairs and then back up again. That was the first run, where Bertie races into the bedroom, corners rather niftily and leaps on the headboad to aim all four hard-padded paws on Kim's belly. It's an effective wake-up call being bounced on from quite a height by five kilos of determined cat.

After a few more runs up and down the stairs, and assuming Bertie's efforts haven't yet achieved their aim, his next tactic is to run into the bedroom at full tilt, bounce on the bedside table and then run the length of Kim's body, bounce off again and canter downstairs. He's clearly trying to let Kim know that it's time to GO DOWN STAIRS, but soporific morning men and herding cats don't always see eye-to-eye.

By now, Bertie has usually managed to wake Kim enough and to stomp on his bladder, so the poor man totters off to the bathroom with a hugely vocal cat swirling around his ankles. Bertie sits outside the bathroom door sounding more like a wolf at full moon than the average domestic cat. He is a feline with a long, lean body and a rather barritone voice for his size. The exit from the bathroom is the funniest:

Kim walks to landing, Bertie alongside.

Bertie runs down the first flight of stairs to demonstrate to Kim what he's required to do.

Bertie runs upstairs again, circles Kim's legs and canters off down the stairs again.

Kim takes a few steps towards the bedroom. Bertie howls an objection and shows him the way again.

Kim keeps walking to the bedroom; Bertie gets annoyed.

At this point, Bertie starts any tactic he thinks will work, including the feline Wall-Of-Death, toe attacks, vocal nudges and downright pleas.

By this time, we have normally disolved into gales of laughter, which isn't a bad way to start the day. The morning always ends the same, with Kim heading down, the clunk of the cat food cupboard door opening and then the katzenjammer of both Boots and Bertie urging him to hurry the bowls to the floor.

Me? I rather like Bertie's antics, as Kim inevitably makes a cup of tea and brings it up for me in the morning. What a wonderfully clever little cat Bertie is.

WoooHoooo!

Golly. This new hip is pretty good and I'm healing apace, so things are feeling very positive.

Happily, I heard from an old friend today, which was delightful of itself, but better still that they are going to do some legal work for me and things are looking very bright.

The best though is that Samhain approaches and it's timely for me to close chapters, toss out the dross and unnecessary and move forward - and today has really felt like the first day of the rest of my life. Sound trite? I don't care :-) because it's absolutely wonderful.

That's all I wanted to say - time to tuck up in bed with a good book - I'm reading the full set of The Golden Bough in unabridged version - a fabulous gift from someone lovely )and most unexpected) and I shall let the day melt away feeling like everything is on the up.

Thank Goodness For Cats!

While I was waiting for approval from the RSPCA to bring the 'boys' home, I was quite anxious that I'd be able to gel with the cats after having Tom for such a long time, and because they were already three years old and from another home originally. I spoke to Bastet and Freya - I always think of hEr when it comes to cats, because of her chariot - and asked that we'd get friendly affectionate creatures that we could make a part of our family.

I am so blessed and got my wish, and I give thanks. We have two of the most gorgeous, affectionate and gentle creatures and I love them dearly. Boots is the shyer of the two cats, though he seems to be a shade more dominant of the two brothers, and he's a real snuggle-kitty. Bertie, the name we finally settled on for Smokey/Monty is very different; he's bold, adventurous and as naughty as can be. There's no malice in Bertie, but he's a dustbin wrapped in a fur coat - he eats just about everything including gooseberry jam, yoghurt, pea and mint soup, olive oil - in fact the only thing Bertie has turned his nose up at is an apple core. Bertie is as funny as can be, standing on his hind legs like a meercat in an attempt to see if there's any food about. As it is, we're feeding the boys more than was recommended by the RSPCA, but we figured that as the cats are running around, they would burn it off - but I don't think an entire factory-full of food would be enough for Bertie.

Boots, he's totally different - he smooshes his way on to my armchair, snuggles in the crook of my arm - despite being huge - and wraps his paws around my neck, just as if he's hugging me. He's so gentle and poor boy has been a bit jarred by all the work going on in the house - goodness knows how he will react to my disappearance for four or five days, as I've been the one constant since they came from the shelter. Still, Kim is very comfortable to sit on and I'm sure Boots will cope as Kim's as soppy about cats as I am and just adores the boys.

The last week has been a particularly stressful time for me and my wonderful cats have been such a tonic - thank goodness for cats, and especially for Boots and Bertie!

Autumn - What A Pants Time

My summer was pretty good, recovering from the hip operation and realising that I will be able to walk properly again. Better still, I got a date in October for the second hip to be done, and that gave a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Work has been buoyant and I'm grateful for that too.

The autumn months, however, started off badly and kept on going downhill. First, Poor old Tom died, then someone I had called 'friend' turned and started behaving unacceptably. I coped with that. Then my mum went into hospital after a fall and my sister and I were told that it wouldn't be that likely that she would come out again. Then someone hit the back of my car while I was stationary at a junction and I was reminded that I needed to do the company accounts and corporation tax stuff, which is about as much fun as pushing hot needles into one's own eyeballs.

Five weeks ago, our house descended into utter chaos as we emptied the scullery and tool shed into the dining room so that we could renovate, put in a new central heating boiler and oil tank and take out the rayburn. The tool shed, which had originally been a downstairs toilet, was capped off by the previous owners and used for storage and we are trying to turn it back into a downstairs cloakroom. The scullery needed dry-lining and the ceiling replaced, new wiring and a radiator. We bought lovely new cast iron radiators styled on an original French design for the bedroom and sitting room and the electricians came in to wire up.

All in all, the house is a bomb site. My cleaning lady has been ill - not that she could have done much anyway - and I have felt like running away, only I can't drive for more than 15 minutes without being in excruciating pain because the hire car is so uncomfortable. I can't get out of the house and take a nice walk to get away from the banging and screeching drills and other power tools and my remaining 'real' hip is just bone-on-bone now, and too painful to go any distance.

Three weeks after it started, most of the pipe-work was in, the radiators connected but the boiler wasn't yet commissioned. The dry-lining, that must have upset our neighbours over the weekend installation, fell off the walls and was a total waste of money and materials. Now, five weeks on, we have heating, thank goodness, the scullery is plastered and the electricians finished and long gone. The plumber still has to come back to take the tanks from the roof-space and finish off the downstairs cloakroom; finding the sewage pipe has turned into a bit of an epic and this was all supposed to have finished weeks ago.

On the 27th September my mother died after five weeks in hospital. We had had an interesting relationship, sometimes getting on well and at other times not speaking at all. It was my mother's wont to behave badly and she did not include 'sorry' in her vocabulary. Our last encounter had been soon after my father died; it was a difficult time and my mother had never taken care of the bank accounts or household bills, and she really didn't have a clue. My sister and I were to become joint Attorneys but the logistics of managing her affairs, while I lived in Somerset and my sister lived in Paris became a nightmare, so I offered to do it all. But it seems that my sister didn't trust me. I offered to let my sister be sole Attorney, but she didn't want the responsibility; she the said that I should be sole Attorney after all, but that she wanted power of veto (not a problem) and she insisted that I travel from Somerset to Lincolnshire every week, which I didn't feel was realistic. Eventually my mother settled things by acting up and when she didn't get the desired reaction from me, announced "Well, you don't think I'm going to let you look after my affairs!" It seemed to have escaped her notice that I hadn't been offering to look after her for the fun of it and so I decided she could have her own way. I'm now totally disinherited, not that there was much to inherit, but my father had wanted me to have half of the estate. My sister, the sole beneficiary has now declared "Trust me!" (note the irony) and said that she'd do the decent thing, after she has recouped all her outgoings for the past two years.

So, with all this going on, I haven't felt much like blogging, or doing much else for that matter! I'm desperate for some quiet time, some privacy and a bit of a break before I go into hospital on Monday - so much so that I turned down the opportunity to meet two lovely people for shopping and coffee today. Still, on Tuesday I shall be under general anaesthetic and that should give me some quiet time! Perhaps this time, I won't be so eager to get out of hospital, and stay as long as I can to rest, read and generally not be surrounded by noise and dust... Then again, last time there was lots of noise with old ladies hallucinating on morphine! Perhaps coming home to Kim and my two gorgeous kitties will be the best thing after all...

Thank goodness or cats is all I can say!