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Never Lose Love
Nov. 20th, 2015 08:57 pmI have just about been juggling the last month or so of doing my current job plus all the extra work for winding up and starting a new company plus starting on my new job, until this week. This week, I am exhausted. I have had Meetings every day. I am so over Meetings, let me tell you. And the more Meetings, the later I have to work to catch up on, you know, actual work. So yes, very much looking forward to this weekend to psyche myself up for more Meetings next week.
Today I have paid a deposit on a cat run. I am also so over this cat run. We have been having Meetings at home about it. I can't get away from Meetings. Anyway, I had hoped that Alistair would become a free range cat like every other cat I have ever had: inside at night, free to come and go during the day. But! He is scatty. Six months after his arrival, I don't trust him outside alone, so I don't let him out unsupervised — but he is annoying my mother, who is at home with him during the day, by constantly squeaking to be taken out. So I said if she organised it, I would pay for a cat run. So that's been my mother's little project recently. After a recommendation from her hairdresser's mother*, she's chosen a specialist cat run firm based in Brisbane (!) to surround the patio and part of the garden with mesh. It's unobtrusive and classy, apparently. And it will be good for Alistair, obviously, to be able to go out safely, and good for the local birdlife that he can't get anywhere near them. Not so good for the garden's skink population, who live in the herb garden that will be incorporated into the cat run, and who Alistair has decided are his sworn enemies. Run, little lizards!
As you can tell from his demands to be let out, Alistair is now very much at home. In his first few weeks, he insisted on eating nothing but the dry food he had at the shelter. Expensive yellow biscuits. I was happy enough to oblige until I realised they were grain-based and were cause of his terrible wind problem. So I finally got him to try other things and what do you know? Other things are DELICIOUS. Who wants old yellow biscuits when Wild Salmon Florentine In A Delicate Sauce is on offer? In the beginning, too, he would make this funny little huffing noise that I eventually worked out was his attempt at purring. He has purred a lot since then, and has now worked out how to do it properly. We have still not worked out belly scritching though. He was not having my early attempts at it at all. Just lately he has started rolling over occasionally to show me his belly, but if I touch it he curls up like an armadillo and gives me a look that says, what did you do that for, you weirdo?
My mother is also very much at home now. I had forgotten the fun of watching TV with her. Look at that lump on that actor's neck! He should get that seen to. That man on the news has an enormous pimple in his ear, can you see? That actress has puffy cheeks, I bet she's on Prednisolone. I can't tell you how much this photo I bought home from work thrilled her. (Don't click that if you're squeamish.)
* Jenny/NewAngela recently passed on some piece of news or other, as heard from her nephew's ex-wife's stepmother. A totally reliable source.
Today I have paid a deposit on a cat run. I am also so over this cat run. We have been having Meetings at home about it. I can't get away from Meetings. Anyway, I had hoped that Alistair would become a free range cat like every other cat I have ever had: inside at night, free to come and go during the day. But! He is scatty. Six months after his arrival, I don't trust him outside alone, so I don't let him out unsupervised — but he is annoying my mother, who is at home with him during the day, by constantly squeaking to be taken out. So I said if she organised it, I would pay for a cat run. So that's been my mother's little project recently. After a recommendation from her hairdresser's mother*, she's chosen a specialist cat run firm based in Brisbane (!) to surround the patio and part of the garden with mesh. It's unobtrusive and classy, apparently. And it will be good for Alistair, obviously, to be able to go out safely, and good for the local birdlife that he can't get anywhere near them. Not so good for the garden's skink population, who live in the herb garden that will be incorporated into the cat run, and who Alistair has decided are his sworn enemies. Run, little lizards!
As you can tell from his demands to be let out, Alistair is now very much at home. In his first few weeks, he insisted on eating nothing but the dry food he had at the shelter. Expensive yellow biscuits. I was happy enough to oblige until I realised they were grain-based and were cause of his terrible wind problem. So I finally got him to try other things and what do you know? Other things are DELICIOUS. Who wants old yellow biscuits when Wild Salmon Florentine In A Delicate Sauce is on offer? In the beginning, too, he would make this funny little huffing noise that I eventually worked out was his attempt at purring. He has purred a lot since then, and has now worked out how to do it properly. We have still not worked out belly scritching though. He was not having my early attempts at it at all. Just lately he has started rolling over occasionally to show me his belly, but if I touch it he curls up like an armadillo and gives me a look that says, what did you do that for, you weirdo?
My mother is also very much at home now. I had forgotten the fun of watching TV with her. Look at that lump on that actor's neck! He should get that seen to. That man on the news has an enormous pimple in his ear, can you see? That actress has puffy cheeks, I bet she's on Prednisolone. I can't tell you how much this photo I bought home from work thrilled her. (Don't click that if you're squeamish.)
* Jenny/NewAngela recently passed on some piece of news or other, as heard from her nephew's ex-wife's stepmother. A totally reliable source.