An average day

I wake with a start. Frankie has landed on me and is determinedly head-butting my chin. He will wake me if it is the only thing he successfully achieves today.

I try to push him off, but I can’t. I manage to sit up enough to see that it is four thirty in the morning, and that the reason that my feet aren’t moving is because Ozzie and Willow are each sleeping on one.

I summon all my energy and push him off the bed. He bounces straight back up like a demented Tigger, and makes himself at home on my bladder.

Charlie, awoken by the thud of falling cat, also makes his appearance on the bed. He settles into the crook of my left arm, making sure that his whiskers are positioned straight up my nose.

Holly is pissed off that they got there before her, and starts swearing loudly.

Zach hears the commotion from downstairs and starts barking. He sounds startled, like he was suddenly snatched from a really good dream. There is a note of panic in his bark, which soon dies away as he drifts back to sleep.

The Baron’s snores continue unabated, as do Ellie’s.

Amazingly, despite the noise, and dead weight on my bladder, I drop back into slumber.



The alarm clock comes as a complete shock. Charlie leaps into the air in horror, and sends Willow and Frankie running for cover. Ozzie lifts his head, realises that requires more energy than he has, and goes back to sleep.

A now happy Holly jumps onto the spot that Charlie has made warm. Sadly, I don’t have time to snuggle for long, much as I want to, because my sorely abused bladder can’t last out much longer. I stroke her wonderfully soft fur for a few minutes and reluctantly leave the warmth and comfort of my bed and of my cat.

I stagger, zombie-like, into the bathroom, with Ellie winding herself round my ankles. I count the steps it takes to get there, because I have a bet with myself every morning as to how long it will take Zach to bark. He barked on step eleven. Yesterday it was step eight. He’s slacking.

With the help of my faithful feline friends, I manage to use the bathroom. They accompany back to the bedroom so I can get dressed. I pull on my dog walking clothes and prepare to face the next wave of animal mayhem.



Downstairs, Zach is very much awake. I can hear his cries as I scoop the litter tray and get fresh bowls out for the cats, who are all eagerly awaiting their breakfast. His cries get louder as he listens to me fill the kibble bowl and get the dog bowls ready.

The cats are eating. I watch them for a minute, enjoying the relative peace that will soon be shattered. Ellie is messy when eating. Oz gulps his food down like there is no tomorrow. Willow picks up each biscuit so daintily, hunched over the kibble so no-one can interrupt her. Charlie eyes the kitchen warily, and then starts to lick the jelly off the meat. Holly is on the other side of the kitchen with her private bowl.

Frankie is not eating. He is in the brace position by the living room door and is awaiting the arrival of his best friend.

I go into the living room. Zach is jumping up and down on the spot, unable to contain his excitement that it is a whole new day to spent in fun and mischief. He can’t walk for wagging his tail, and so flings himself in the general direction of the sofa.

Lila looks up from the sofa in the conservatory and yawns. Lazily, she stands up and stretches. She extends her back legs so thoroughly that I am amazed she doesn’t fall back down. Slowly, she walks over to the sofa where I am being licked and sniffed by Zach. Her little stump of a tail wags as she walks.

Incredibly, Zach’s tail wags even harder as Lila plods over. She sits between my knees and I stroke her head. Zach sits next to us and rolls around, flashing his bits. But Zach becomes jealous and starts bouncing from corner to corner, trying to get my attention. I turn to stroke him, and find that Lila has leapt up into my lap and is preventing me from doing anything but loving her.

After a few minutes, Lila removes herself and sits by the door. She wants her breakfast. Zach, who is still bounding with excitement, jumps around next to her. He couldn’t find a bone to bring me, and so he has the remote control in his mouth.

I open the door.

Lila makes for the kitchen and sits in front of the counter where her breakfast is waiting. She glares at Charlie, who is sniffing her bowl curiously, and waits for me to follow her.

Zach pays no attention to the food, and makes for Frankie. His green eyes light up as the door opens, and the two friends greet each other as though they haven’t seen each other in years.

Lots of sniffing and licking later, Zach is ready for breakfast. He leaps around as I pick up his bowl and fill it and dives straight in as soon as it is down. Lila watches me pick up her bowl and leaves the kitchen. I put it down and she races back in to start eating. She doesn’t like the sound her bowl makes when it touches the floor.

I sweep the floor. The dogs have shed enough fur overnight to create a new puppy. Frankie and Ellie sniff the fur with disdain and go back to watching the birds in the garden.




The dogs have finished their breakfast. Zach starts running around the living room in anticipation of his walk. Lila inspects both the bowls and then sits at the front door whilst I get my shoes on.

I clip their leads on and we set off.

We take the same route we take every morning, and we see the same people we always do. We are creatures of habit.

The children come to greet us, and Lila wets herself with excitement. Zach is tangled in the leads and wagging his tail. He tries to free himself and ends up rolling around in the mud, legs tied together. But his tail doesn’t stop wagging.

I free him, and we go home.




As soon as we get back, I put the dogs in the back garden with their favourite toys. They start chasing each other round and round. As I leave the room, I can see Zach nipping Lila’s legs and running away. I can hear her growl of response.

Holly is still in the kitchen eating her breakfast. She looks at me, and continues to eat. She likes to take her time.

I go upstairs and take a shower. I can see Charlie sat on the bathmat through the shower curtain, and watch Ellie climb into the sink. Her little face peers round the curtain and then disappears.

I get dressed, ready for work. Willow watches me from her vantage point on the end of the bed. I stroke her before going downstairs. She rubs her empty eye socket on my hand.

I empty the dishwasher and get my breakfast. A bowl of peach and pear segments with natural yoghurt and Weetabix, and a glass of semi skimmed milk.

I eat my breakfast in front of the computer. I visit my favourite sites and check the news and travel. I can see the dogs eyeing my breakfast up through the conservatory doors, and that is why I haven’t let them in.

I clean up and pack my lunch.

Zach is howling, and so I relent and let the dogs back in. Lila makes a beeline for her favourite bone, and I wrestle Zach to the ground. He has muddy paws and I don’t want to change again.

It is time to leave. I call work to tell them where I am going, pick up my bags and say goodbye to the pets.

I am on my way.




I set off down the road. The traffic from the road block is terrible and I am glad I am not going that way. The sun is shining over the fields, and there is a light but patchy fog. The horses are playing in their enclosure and I smile when I pass them.

I reach the motorway. As I speed up down the slip road, I turn my music up and get ready for a nice drive. I hit eighty five just as I move out into the middle lane, gliding past the endless parade of lorries on their way to London.

The M11 is fairly clear. I can see all the way to the City - the Gherkin is shining in the sun. I take the sharp turn into the M25 and see that the traffic is light.

The good traffic continues all the way past the bridge. I can see brake lights ahead of me, and I gently apply my own brakes, adding my lights to the sea of colour. The traffic is not moving.

My lunch is calling to me. I eat half a chicken sandwich. I rarely manage to get to work with my lunch intact. I wrap the rest up, and put it on the back seat out of reach.

I play the alphabet game to pass the time. I get to W before the traffic begins to move again. I pass a Jaguar with its engine completely caved in, and a little further down, a van with its boot caved in. There is a bored looking policeman standing next the van, writing something down.

I leave the motorway and drive the final couple of miles to today’s destination. I struggle to remember where I am going, and am heartened when I see a familiar parade of shops.

There is nowhere to park. I park in someone else’s space and sign myself in.

I find the office assigned to me and dump my belongings. My first port of call is the loo, followed immediately by the kitchen.

I rummage through the cupboard trying to find a clean mug to use, one that doesn’t clearly belong to someone else. I give up, and borrow a cup and saucer from the set used by the Board. I make my tea, scalding my hand in the process, and return to my office.

I find that someone, trying to be helpful, has turned the air conditioning on. The office resembles the interior of a walk in freezer. I turn the air conditioning off, and begin to unpack my work.




The day passes in a blur of meetings, phone calls, tea making, and file review. It is a relief when I see the clock reach four.

I pack up, making sure that I don’t accidentally take client paperwork away with me. That rarely goes down well.

I start the car and brace myself for the stop and start journey home.




I can hear Zach barking as soon as I open the car door. Lila knows I am home, and doesn’t bother to bark. Knowing her, she hasn’t bothered to move yet either.

Ellie is in the window waiting. As I open the front door, I can hear the sound of cats leaping from their sleeping places. Ozzie is the loudest, and vaults over Charlie and Frankie to streak down the stairs and into the kitchen first. He leaps onto the side and takes up his position by his bowl, crying piteously to remind me that I’ve not fed him in at least six hours.

I go through the morning feeding ritual again, and smile as I hear Zach’s cries getting more excited.




I open the door to the living room and greet my dogs. Lila is laying in a pool of sunshine in the conservatory. She leaps up as soon as she sees me and races over. Zach is already leaping around me creating a draft with his ever wagging tail, but is soon pushed out of the way by Lila. She sits at my feet and licks whatever part of me she can get to. I crouch down and cuddle her.

Zach settles on my left side and lets me rub under his chin. Lila doesn’t want to let him have any attention and wiggles round to block him out. I tell her to get down and show me her belly. She complies, and so does Zach. I rub both of their bellies, and tell them what good dogs they are.

As is her wont, Lila begins to roll around on the floor, stretching muscles and rubbing her back. Zach takes this as a signal that the games can start and leaps up. He jumps around her barking, and she rolls around barking.
With that, I leave them to it.

The cats have finished their meal and are waiting faithfully for me in my bedroom. I join them. Holly is on my pillow, where she likes to spend the day in peace. Willow is at the end of my bed and the boys are in one great heap of arms, legs and tails. Ellie, as ever, is winding between my feet and telling me all about her day.

I change out of my work clothes. I know I should hang them up, but instead I leave them in a crumpled pile, promising myself I will deal with them later. Deep down, I know I am lying to myself.

I pull on my favourite jeans, a new t-shirt I bought and pick up my boots. It is time to walk the dogs again, and they know it. I can hear them prancing around with excitement as I pull on my boots, and as I go back down the stairs I can see them waiting for me.

And so we set off, a labrador streaking ahead and a rottweiler lagging behind.




After the dog walk I start to think about my rumbling tummy. In a good week, I will have planned out dinners and will have made sure that whatever I need is defrosted and ready to cook.

This hasn’t been a good week, and so there is nothing ready to cook. This doesn’t deter me, and I rummage through the freezer looking for something that suits.

Whilst dinner is cooking, I visit my favourite forums. I join the ladies in chat (good friends all) and we natter. Sometimes we do cleaning in between chats, but today I don’t want to. Today is a lazy day, and the housework will just have to wait.




I eat dinner at the computer. This is a habit I would like to break, but when I am at home alone, cyber company is better than no company. I try not to drop food onto the keyboard, as this upsets the Baron but a few stray grains of rice end up stuck between the A and the S keys anyway. This will annoy the Baron because not only is there food in the keyboard, it will remind him that we still haven’t got any transfers for the keyboard. I can type, and the lack of letters on the keyboard doesn’t bother me. It bothers him.

I can hear Lila downstairs. She is trying to take Zach’s bone away from him, and he doesn’t want her to. She is quite persuasive, however, and I hear him cry and then flop on the sofa.

Ellie is sat next to my plate and is quietly licking the remains. I haven’t got the energy to push her away and pretend that I haven’t seen her.

I continue chatting with my friends. The sky grows dark and I put the light on.




Downstairs, the dogs are disturbed from their sleep by the sound of the front door opening. I look guiltily at the clock, and realise how late it is. The Baron is home.

I say goodbye to my friends, and go downstairs.

The Baron is tired and hungry. I make him some dinner whilst he walks the dogs and washes his hands. He slumps into his chair and gratefully takes his dinner. The dogs lay by his feet with a hopeful and expectant air. Ellie wanders in and sits directly opposite him.

We chat for a bit. The dogs look dejected when they realise there is no food for them, and Lila whimpers when Ellie gets a crafty lick of the plate. She is jealous.

The Baron goes and checks on his plants. His tobacco plants are coming on spectacularly, and the lawn he seeded is already in need of a mow.

I check that the animals all have food and water enough to survive the night. Ozzie and I disagree on the amount of food needed to last, and again he cries piteously as I fill the bowls.

With a final check that everything is out and off, we bid goodnight to the dogs and head upstairs.

The cats are all waiting for me on the bed. Frankie is laying on my pyjamas and refuses to get off. He is making happy feet on them, and doesn’t want to stop. I carefully pick him up and put him down on the floor. I change.

The Baron is now on his computer. He is lost for the night. I kiss him and head off to bed.

I crawl under the quilt, trying not to dislodge the cats scattered on its surface. Holly grumbles and moves to the right. Willow and Ozzie refuse to move and I gently ease my legs down and around them. Charlie moves over to the right and gets bopped by Holly. He leaps off the bed and lands on Frankie. They both run away.

I turn out the light.