Hadron

It appears the LHC experiment had some unexpected results that the media have not been reporting on. The machine was switched on last Wednesday, and a definite black hole was been observed in our back garden.

The black hole is mounted on four legs, is covered in white flecked black fur and scabs, and appears with regularity whenever more food is required.



This handsome gentleman is absolutely ravenous (and is also very charming). He first found the Baron out in the garage (where he was working on his latest project). We keep our cat food out there - with six cats, we buy in bulk - and the Baron took pity on his starving companion.

He has been a permanent fixture ever since. The Baron is adamant that we aren't bringing him, yet every evening he feeds him and brings him in for a snuggle on the sofa. He says he just feels sorry for him....

He is a very trusting cat. He is clearly used to humans, as he wanders in the door whenever he gets the chance and makes himself very comfortable. He doesn't mind the dogs either (although they are terrified of him), and he has met several of our cats. Frankie seems to think Hadron is his reflection, but Frankie has never been the smartest of kitties. Ellie isn't impressed, but she hasn't tried to attack him yet.

The real test will be the other four cats. Those four have lived on the streets and bear the scars to prove it. If they accept him, we will have a new cat.

Main players

Since I have rehomed myself, I should reintroduce the cast of characters.

This is me. Mouse.

Not good enough? You mean I am supposed to show my face?

Fine. Is this better?


I am 29 now, and married to the Baron who is 30 (although acts more like he is 7):

We have no children, although it really isn't through lack of trying. We DO have a deranged 8 year old nephew, the Boy, who spends every other weekend with us (as well as every single Friday night) because according to him, we are more fun than Mum or Dad:

We live in a nice small village in the South of England. With us live the Monsters - six evil cats and two very deranged dogs.

There were three goldfish in the menagerie but they were relocated to the village pond.

I haven't seen them since, the little ingrates.

This is Frankie, the stupidest cat in the West. It is amazing he is still alive.

Smellie Ellie. Sweet, but certifiable.

This is Charlie. Don't be fooled by that sweet slumber. His other name is Agent Orange for a reason.

Eye eye! It's One Eyed Willy! She still likes to rub the empty socket on a willing nose. There just aren't all that many around.

This is Holly. Holly is a stroppy cat. See how she won't even look at me. She was sulking because I took a picture instead of stroked her.

This is Ozzie. He beat Charlie to the title of He Who Eats Enough To Power A Small Nuclear Power Station.

This is Darth Lila. Her nickname suits her. If she likes you, she pisses in your general direction. If she doesn't like you, she grumbles and pisses in your general direction.

This is Zach Attack! Note the resemblance to the above black cat? He has. He isn't sure whether he is a cat or a dog, but if it moves, he will hump it just to be sure.

Odds and sods

There is a full moon tonight, and as usual, the animals can sense it.

Ellie is walking around crying. She doesn't really seem to want anything but to hear the sound of her own voice. Zach snuck upstairs to see what was up and is now following her as she goes from room to room. He hasn't realised that I know he is up here.

I can't blame him. Lila's response to a full moon is predictable. She won't share her toys with Zach and she likes to try to eat his ears. She's downstairs alone watching America's Next Top Model, and barking at Miss J Alexander. I can't blame her - why the fuck does he call himself that?

The boy cats alternate between rampaging round my bedroom or sleeping. There is no middle ground for them. Holly and Willow watch disdainfully from my bed. They don't care what the moon is doing - it is welcome to do whatever it pleases as long as it doesn't disturb them.
And there is the first crash of the evening. Ellie has managed to get the ladder from the Boy's loftbed off.

I had my blood test yesterday. The Baron got a little stroppy because I wouldn't let him in the cubicle with me. I cope better alone, and I find that when he is trying to distract me, I am acutely aware that I am being distracted and will focus on why. Alone, I just watch the needle go in unfettered.

It was quite convenient since he had his follow up appointment with the surgeon who kindly de-appendicised him. He got the all clear and was told to bugger off and to not darken their doorway again. Well, they didn't say THAT, but they did say he didn't need to come back again.
Bloody good thing, really. I read today that Patientline, who provide the in hospital TV and phone service, are putting up their call charges by 160%. The greedy fuckers, already £80million in debt, spent £160million installing these new systems (that aren't that reliable) and want to recoup their investment. So they are targetting a vulnerable and captive audience in order to do so. What scum bags.

Anyway, I digress. I should get my results back on Tuesday and we can see if my thyroid malfunctions. My mother's does, and I fully expect mine to pack in service one of these days and retire to the Carribean. I wouldn't really blame it.

The Boy is currently on holiday with his Dad. I'm a bit lost without him, although the peace and quiet is nice. At least in theory. Zach is now crying along with Ellie. If it wasn't so damn annoying, it would be quite harmonious. The Boy...oh yes, he is in Cornwall. They went to the beach today, and the Boy's new (half) brother, aged ten weeks, got to put his feet in the sand for the first time. Apparently that gave him the giggles.

That will have to do for now. My cursor is dancing round the screen of its own accord and is frankly pissing me off. I'm off to drown my sorrows with a nice bottle of red.

Toodles.

Last post of 2006

So it has been a little hectic here over the last few weeks.

Ozzie is now fine. Still fat, but fine. His new diet is agreeing with him, and his bladder seems to have come to a truce with the struvite crystals.

The Baron has recovered well after his minor disagreement with his appendix. Physically, he healed very quickly but he had a mini nervous breakdown. A few weeks on medication dealt with that, and the Baron is now back in fighting form.

The Boy has decided that he likes staying at our house, and has been here for the last three nights. The tooth fairy was forced to pay a visit a couple of nights ago, and I've been washing and drying his clothes each day like the nice auntie that I am. He is currently playing Star Wars Battlefront and trying to come up with a good screen name.

Tomorrow is the big Star Wars marathon. We've been looking forward to it, because we are very sad people, and we are going to work on my photo albums whilst watching the saga and eating obscene amounts of popcorn.

Happy New Year!

New house rules

Whenever a cat takes ill, the Baron is to be dropped off at the nearest hospital immediately.

Ozzie had a bad UTI. His ureter was spasming and he couldn't pass urine. He is on a new diet regime and had a heavy course of antibiotics.

Not to be outdone, the Baron collapsed on Wednesday night. He is now in hospital recovering from a burst appendix.

Bad bad blogger

Not much has happened round here.

Charlie had his first bath after a nasty litter tray accident. He took it very well, and I didn't need too much in the way of medical attention afterwards.

Lila has a double ear infection and a new patch of wet ezcema. She tried to bite me this week when I tried to put cream on her sore bits, and given how much they are oozing, I don't really blame her for objecting.

She has decided that her various lotions and potions do, in fact, make her feel better, and so has come to the conclusion that I can treat her, but she will glare at me whilst I do so. And then lick me to death when I stop tormenting her.

She is currently sat next to me staring at me with her big brown eyes. Since I know she does get fed, she really is wasting her time with the "I'm starving and completely neglected" look. I think she is feeling a lot better now.

Zach is on my other side. He hasn't destroyed much in the last few days.

The Boy got 16 out of 16 on his spelling test. I am one proud auntie this evening.

For Sale

Item 1: One slightly damaged rottweiler (furless paws, electrical burn on tongue).
Aged 21 months, female. Enjoys bullying puppies, eating wires, and barking at the television. Very stroppy and prone to dribbling.

Item 2: One black labrador, good as new.
Aged 8 months, male. Believes he is a cat. Also enjoys eating electrical equipment. Has a history of knocking things over with his tail.

Item 3: One black cat, reasonable condition.
Aged nearly 4 years, male, incredibly stupid. He believes he is invisible. 'Nuff said.

Item 4: One tortoiseshell cat, excellent condition.
Aged three years, female. Very very very vocal. Enjoys headbutting, crying and winding up dogs. Scatters kibble over the entire kitchen.

Item 5: One fat orange cat, damaged ears, legs and bowels.
Age unknown, male. Grumpy. Enjoys sitting on the bath mat and laying in the sun.

Item 6: One tabby cat, damaged.
Age unknown, female. Missing one eye, several inches of tail and a lot of brain cells. Will watch food cook in the oven. Enjoys attacking quilts.

Item 7: One tabby cat, good condition.
Age unknown, but old. Female. Enjoys beating up cats, dogs and unsuspecting humans.

Item 8: One ginormous white cat, missing fur and teeth.
Age unknown, male. Will eat entire body weight in food on a daily basis if allowed.

Animal instinct

The Monsters know that I am sad.

Lila wants have contact with me at all times. She is guarding my feet right now. I put my hand down to stroke her reassuringly solid head, and am rewarded with a warm lick.

Zach is on my other side, his weight firm against my leg. His tail thumps every time I look at him.

Both follow me everywhere. They stick close together, as if to reassure themselves that things are ok. Little and Large, although Little is not that little anymore.

Charlie, Frankie and Ozzie are my constant companions in bed. Charlie takes my left arm and shoulder, Ozzie the right, and Frankie takes my chest.

Since I am having some sleeping problems at the moment, this isn't as annoying as it sounds. It is calming to lay in the dark, hearing and feeling the purrs of my three contented boys. Their presence is soothing.

Willow lays next to my right leg. Holly grudgingly takes my left leg. She'd rather be on my left shoulder, but Charlie nearly always gets there first and doesn't fight with the nearby boys. Both purr quietly. Holly bops me when she senses I am awake and not talking to her.

Ellie doesn't like to be on the bed with the other cats, but she jumps up in the night to check that all is well on her way to her favourite windowsill spot. If the boys have moved, she will lay on my chest for a while whilst headbutting my hand.

I feel surrounded by furry love.

Who would have thought?

…that such a small dog could hold such vast quantities of vomit?

Imagine my surprise shortly after breakfast this morning when I came across not one, not two, not three, but seven separate and large pools of dog sick, all in discreet spots around the ground floor. I should have realised that no puddles was a bad sign…
It turns out that Zach Attack! has been eating the small and very very sour apples that grow on our apple tree, and that they don’t really agree with him. He’s a very sweet, but very stupid dog.

It is hard not to feel sorry for Zach when you see his sad little face, with his big brown eyes and droopy ears. Even if the stupid bastard did bring it entirely on himself.

…that Darth Lila could be trusted around my breakfast?

Well, I did. I know, I know. I’m stupid too. I was just munching my toast and Zach threw up again by my foot. It didn’t stop him begging for my toast crust, of course, but it did put me off eating.

Rather than try to clean and eat at the same time, I put my slice of toast on the highest bookshelf in the conservatory. I could see Lila out of the corner of my eye just watching it. That wasn’t a surprise – she likes toast just as much as I do

What was a surprise was when she leapt up on the armchair, stood on the back of the seat and gracefully swiped my slice of toast from its resting place atop my battered copy of Birdsong. Zach merely watched in awe, and then threw up again.

…that a poorly dog would still find time to eat printer paper (in the whole thirty seconds that my back was turned)?

‘Nuff said. Git.

…that the Boy would make it to his 8th birthday in one piece?

I had my doubts, I have to admit. But so far the worst we’ve had is a couple of black eyes, some scabby knees and a handful of detentions for fighting. Happy Birthday to the ratbag!

He’s buggered off to Cornwall for two glorious weeks to visit his new stepmother’s parents. Or it could be her grandparents. I wasn’t actually listening when he told me, because we were in the middle of a thrilling Mario Kart race, where I had joined in after the Boy had completed two laps (he insists on a head start but surely two laps head start is taking the piss even for the second worst player in the world – my mother is the worst ever) and I was still winning. The shame.

…that the United in Fear Scaredy Cat Society meetings would take place in my conservatory? And that two of the three members were in fact dogs?

None of my pets like the hoover. True, none of them take it to the extreme of my parents rottweiler, who barks and bears his teeth at it, but it would be fair to say that all eight live in fear of the Coming of the Hoover.

I needed to hoover the stairs this weekend. I hate doing it, but Charlie and Ozzie had had a huge fight, and the stairs were coated in clumps of orange and white hair. They seem to get some enjoyment from chasing each other, then pinning each other down and headbutting each other. Whatever floats their boat…

The hoover lives upstairs in the back bedroom. Holly and Charlie hid as soon as they saw me pick it up. Charlie, bless his orange cotton socks, got all worked up and ran around trying frantically to hide. Holly dove under the bed.

Ozzie and Willow favour getting on the bed, and then fighting over who can lie where.
Frankie prefers the top of the kitchen counters, which is another story altogether, seeing as the stupid cat still has trouble getting back down.

And Ellie likes the conservatory.

If I had actually got round to hoovering the stairs, all would have been well. The cats would have sulked, the dogs would have cowered and my stairs would have looked a damn sight better.
But the computer was being temperamental. So the Baron had pulled the whole thing out and was busy trying to fix it. He decided he wanted to hoover the several dogs worth of fur out from behind the desk in the hopes that it would magically cure the problem.

So the hoover was in the living room. Ellie was sat on the sofa out in the conservatory trying to look cool and unconcerned (and failing miserably, I might add). The dogs took one look and shot out to join Ellie on the sofa.

All three of them looked petrified, and were trying to hide behind each other. Ellie had jumped on to the back of the sofa, and Zach was precariously balanced next to her, occasionally sniffing her face. Lila was sat in front of them, also trying to look brave (and failing. Her shaking was a bit of a giveaway).

The meeting commenced.

Lila put her huge head down next to Ellie’s little one, so that their noses were touching. Ellie responded with a silent hiss, which Lila ignored. Zach put his head down next to Lila. All three were touching.

Lila then licked Ellie all across her face. Ellie’s expression was priceless, and to be honest, she wasn’t all that impressed with the sheer amount of drool coating her fur. But she still didn’t pull away. Instead, she started to lick Lila’s nose.

Of course, by this time, Zach wanted to join in, and he started to lick Ellie too. Lila wasn’t having that, and bopped him across the head with her paw. He tried to bop her back, but missed and smacked Ellie instead. She glared at him, and bopped him between the eyes.

Meeting adjourned.

…that I am supposed to be writing a report right now?

Ummmmm.

If you were a fly on my wall

"Lila, don't eat Zach's tail"

"Frankie, stop headbutting the microwave"

"Lila, it's a broom. It won't hurt you"

"Zach, Frankie is not edible"

"Frankie, leave the bloody microwave alone!"

"Charlie, why are you eating Ozzie? He can't taste THAT good"

"Ellie, me sitting on the toilet is not an invitation for you to sit on my lap. Go away"

"Willow, stop attacking the quilt. It hasn't done anything wrong"

"Frankie, stop headbutting the toaster!"

"Zach, you DO NOT HUMP MY BACK!"

"Lila, it is a plastic bag. You are quite safe"

"Ellie. I am about to give you fresh food. You left that all night because you didn't want it. Why do you insist on starting to eat it as I go to empty your bowl AND THEN GLARE AT ME FOR TAKING YOUR BLOODY FOOD AWAY?!"

"Holly, stop hitting me. I mean it. I know you are there. It's hard not to notice when you have your claws embedded in my nipple"

"Zach, that skirt was clean. Stop jumping up!"

"Ozzie, if you don't let me groom you NOW, I will be forced to shave your entire bum to get rid of the mats. Do you want the other cats to laugh at you?"

"Lila, you are a girl. Why are you mounting Zach?"

"I hate you all. Leave home NOW"

Daft bugger

The room was completely dark. I'd just nipped in to put a book away before I went to bed. I didn't want to trip over any sleeping cats/errant folders/cat vomit so I put the light on.

I was not expecting the scene that met my eyes. In fact, I nearly dropped the book in surprise.
Frankie, the daftest bugger in the world, was sat in my office swivel chair, green eyes wide open in amazement. The chair was swivelling at high speed, apparently of its own accord. He was hanging on for dear life, claws dug deep into the leather whilst his tail was wrapped around the arm rest.

I don't know whether he jumped on the chair (from either the ground or the bookcase where he hides when I have to use the hoover - Frankie is also a scaredy cat) and his impact caused it to spin. On the other paw, he might have worked it out all by himself. Although that is doubtful....
I couldn't resist. I carried on spinning the chair with him hanging on. I gave him the chance to jump off, but he seemed to really enjoy it. He looked like a little surfer dude.

He couldn't walk in a straight line by the time we finished.

My mind has gone

Lila has a live in playmate :)

My cats hate me

Well, most of them. They really do. Despite the fact I feed them, adore them on demand and keep them in the ham to which they have become accustomed to.

Why?

Because I keep electrocuting them. I've always been a static person, but the last week has been something else. The sparks fly from my hand to their fur and the crack signals the retreat of a very pissed off cat.

Willow will not allow me to touch her at all. Charlie looks warily at my hand before I touch him and Holly is camping out in the spare bedroom until the danger passes. Frank and Oz are a little more relaxed but to be honest, they live in their own bizarre little world and probably don't notice that much.

Ellie, on the other paw, has worked out that if she rubs up against the computer monitor she can get enough static in her own fur to get her own back. Which she does repeatedly, and usually throws in a couple of sharp nips for good measure.

Just charming.

Here are my entires for the NFP beauty pageant

My entries:

Harvey:

Baby Bat Ears aka Harvey. My first, and my soul cat.

Harvey was a blur of energy and was the boss of the house. He terrorised the house by day and snuggled in my arms like a baby at night. He'd tuck his head into my shoulder, put his paws around my neck and purr.

If it wasn't for Harvey, I don't think I would have the houseful of monsters that I do today. He was so full of personality - he was a cheeky little sod and he made every day fun.

It's been almost a year since he was killed, and I still can't think about that day without crying. He was only two and a half when he was killed and it just wasn't long enough. I miss him.

Frankie:

Frankie is named after the girl cat from Red Dwarf. He is almost impossible to get a good photo of, because he hates the flash and runs away when he sees a camera. He turned three in November.

He is a sweetheart of a cat who just wants to be adored by everyone. You only need to look at him and he starts purring. He has a rusty red belly, folds both of his ears back before he grooms himself and steals earplugs and underwear.

When Frankie came home, Harvey was very jealous. He didn't let Frankie come anywhere near me, and since Frankie was a shy little thing, he never pushed it. The only area of the house that Harvey wasn't interested in was the bath. The first time it happened, I think it was an accident, but Frank quickly realised what an opportunity he had. He fell in. He didn't struggle, but sat perfectly still - his green eyes getting bigger and bigger. The house had rubbish central heating and so the bathroom was really cold. I grabbed him and wrapped him in a towel, trying to rub him dry. I felt it rather than heard it, but that was the very first time I heard Frankie purr and it was then I realised just how much I loved my little brave scaredy cat.

He adored Harvey. They were inseparable. When he was little, he learnt to imitate Harvey's miaow and would do it to make me think Harvey was threatening him.

Frankie missed Harvey so much. He used to sit on the windowsill looking out at Harvey's grave under the apple tree, and cry.

Ellie:

We were told that Ellie was seven weeks old when we got her. The vet believed that she was five and a half. She developed hypothermia and went into a coma two days after she came home. She has grown into a true naughty tortie.

She has destroyed countless sets of blinds, has ruined two Christmas trees, and has Lila wrapped around her little paw.

Frankie has always adored Ellie. He nursed her for eight long months. Literally. she would wander up to him, and he would roll over and allow her to latch on. She must have spent hours kneading him trying to work out where the milk had gone. Despite being two and a half, whenever Ellie gets scared, she runs straight to Frankie for a cuddle. He keeps her in line, giving her the occasional bop around the head.

Charlie:

Charlie was my first rescue cat. He had been passed over for weeks because he was a biter. When I saw him, I wasn't allowed into his enclosure because the staff refused to deal with him. We took a chance and brought him home.

He is about four or five now, and I've had him nearly two years. In that time, he has gone from biting anything that moves (and a lot of things that don't), to a cat that sleeps in my arms at night. He waits for me while I take a shower, sitting on the mat. When I get out, he winds around my legs until I sit down on the bathmat. He comes and sits on my laps and grooms my eyebrows.

Charlie adores Ozzie. The two of them are inseparable. They sleep together, eat together, groom each other, and squash the breath out of me at night together.
He hated me when I brought him home, and I never dreamed that he would turn into such a lovebug.

Willow:


Willow is the most beautiful one eyed cat in the world. We think she is about Ellie's age, but we have no idea when her birthday is. Like Charlie, we celebrate her adoptaversary. She is sweet and loving, and gives the most ferocious headbutts. She's had a few medical crisis' in the year and a half we've had her, and for a short period she tried to bite me every time she saw me.....I suspect that might have a lot to do with the eight tablets a day she was on and the visits to the vet every other day for injections.

She likes to sleep wrapped around my head, with her paw across my hair and forehead. I like to have her there, and I find it hard to sleep without her now.

Holly:

Holly is a loving cat trapped in a nervous and abused body. She wants to trust people so badly, but just can't get past her fears. For a while, I thought she might live under the sofa forever, but after we moved house, she decided that she would prefer to live under the bed.
Holly does like to sleep with me at night, but I can't say that I always enjoy it. If I stop stroking her, for reasons such as falling asleep, she bops me across the face until I wake up and pay her attention. She loves to be stroked and now that she trusts me, she loves to have her belly rubbed.

She is very vocal and makes her feelings known very very plainly. I usually come home to a mouthful of abuse for leaving her all day, which doesn't stop until I've fussed her for about ten minutes. We think she is about ten years old, and I have to say that when I start to get older I want to be as stroppy as she is.

Like Charlie, she has come on amazingly since she came to us, amd will now sleep on the bed with the other cats. She doesn't like the Baron much, and hisses at him on a regular basis. Saying that, she likes to sleep on his clothes during the day, and pisses all over them to keep the other cats off.

After Harvey was killed, I knew that I wanted to adopt another cat. The Baron, in fact most people, thought I was just looking for a cat to replace Harvey. I suppose that was true in one sense, but I wanted a cat to honour Harvey. The first time I went to the shelter, I left in tears. The second time, I found Ozzie.

Ozzie:

Ozzie fitted in perfectly. The other cats accepted him immediately. We suspect that Frankie thought it was Harvey returned from the dead. Charlie loved him on sight and refuses to be parted from him. I think Harvey led me to him. He was exactly what I needed.

He loves to be cuddled and to be picked up. He eats a lot and is close to imploding and forming a black hole, which makes picking him up an ordeal at times. He purrs a lot, and he has a beautifully melodious purr. He is a joy to live with.

'Tis the season

Christmas and animals are a bad combination. A partnership designed to fail. Just ask a turkey....

Lila is scared of Christmas lights. Which is a big problem since half the village has outdoor lights up. She barks and tries to hide between my legs, which of course, would work if she was a poodle. But she isn't, and frankly, she looks quite daft getting upset by a giant illuminated Santa.

Ellie and Frankie are braver. They spend a large portion of their day trying to eat the tree. Frankie in particular likes to hide underneath it and pounce on anyone passing. Sadly, the tree is in the conservatory and so no-one passes it. He will sit for hours just waiting, occasionally batting a branch to pass the time. After a few hours, he might pounce on Ellie, who then smacks the living crap out of him. He isn't the brightest cat around because this usually happens on a daily basis.

Ellie also likes to look at the lights at night-time. She talks to them for hours on end.

Charlie and Ozzie have been caught trying to steal decorations. It is nice to see Charlie being mischievous, but there are things that no respectable Christmas Angel should have to endure, and being molested by two overweight and neutered toms is one of them.

Thankfully, Willow and Holly aren't showing any signs of caring about Christmas. Neither allow anything to stand between them and their naps, but I guarantee that as soon as the turkey goes in the oven, Willow will be underfoot until she receives what she considers to be her fair share.

And things can only get worse. Tonight is a full moon.

Hold me.

Marking the Occasion

I brought Holly home one year ago today. She has really blossomed out this year - from a cat who used to hide under the sofa for weeks at a time to one who sleeps on my bed and demands tummy rubs.

Guess how she chose to mark the occasion?

The stroppy cowbag pissed all over my paperwork.

Sigh. We aren't quite there yet.

Kitty Crack

My postman is getting concerned. Something is up at the DMouse House.

Strange parcels are being delivered here on a regular basis. There are anxious looking cats in the windows, and there is usually one ready and waiting to inspect the parcels.

The parcels have a rather pungent smell, and on more than one occasion, a stray cat has been seen following the postie as he makes his way down our street.

That is right. I am a 'nip dealer.

At this moment in time, there are six completely stoned cats sleeping off their latest hit.
Canadian catnip is considered by many cats to be the best in the world, and my household of aficionado's would agree. We've had rolling cats, divebombing cats, drooling cats, and fighting cats. Then they get the munchies and fall asleep, usually sprawled out on their backs showing their bits off to all who care to look.

Naturally, within five minutes of their eyes opening, they are after the next hit.

Charlie and Oz favour crying for more. WIllow and Ellie have been caught trying to break into the drawer where the 'nip is stored. Frankie prefers the winding around my ankles and purring technique and Holly's method is simply to steal the pillow from whoever is successful in getting it.

And so on.

Lila is jealous. She only got a huge rawhide bone and a Dog Brick, which she is fairly rubbish at. So she decided to swipe a catnipped pillow.

Ellie was not impressed. She puffed up, growled, and it took quite a while to stop the blood from Lila's nose.

But Lila doesn't like to be outdone. She has learnt to copy their stoned behaviour, and is presently rolling around on the floor, drooling and rubbing her cheeks on her toys.

Frankly, she looks quite daft.

Return of the Monsters

They are all home again. It was peaceful while it lasted.

It was absolutely pouring when I collected them. I later found out that over an inch and a half of rain fell in half an hour, which as an aside caused flash floods in London. I could have calculated that myself by wringing out my clothes.

Because I have so many cats, and several are quite stroppy to boot, I get to go into the cat enclosure to help retrieve them.

Charlie and Oz were first. You'll no doubt be pleased to know that I splurged on a rather nice carrier for them to share. We caught Oz no problem, but once he felt the rain he started to fret. Charlie took five minutes to catch. I couldn't see for rain streaming into my eyes. Charlie also objected very loudly to the rain.

That rather nice cat carrier is bloody heavy when you put in two fat cats. I broke the handle straight away and had to lug it out in my arms to the car. The car was parked some five minutes away, and somehow I parked it in a small ditch. Which flooded.

I made that journey another three times. Accompanied by screaming cats who did not approve of the torrential rain they were being subjected to. Especially when I had to put their carrier on the flooded ground in order to open the door.

Then came Lila. Lila hadn't been too impressed with the kennels. Apparently she sat morosely in her enclosure, not making a sound, and drooled all day. You'd think she'd be pleased to see me.

Not a chance. She hates the rain too and didn't want to leave. We dragged her out of the kennels and tried to persuade her that the car would be drier. Except she hates car travel even more than she hates standing in the rain and so she sat in the flooded ditch and refused to budge.

It was still pissing down. By this point, I was soaked through to the skin and was past caring about the state of my clothes. Good thing really.

I picked her up and popped her in the back. She took offence at this, tried to bite me and then leapt back out and landed with a huge splash in the flooded ditch. So we tried again. And again. And once more for good measure. It was still raining.

Nine month old rottweilers aren't just heavy and wriggly and bitey. They are completely insane, knowing no physical fear. Their brainpower is questionable though. So when she ran head first into a fence, we took our chance, rammed her back in and slammed the door shut.

Then the bloody rain stopped.

All kinds of odd

Oddness abounds.

It all started yesterday, with an early morning phone call to tell me that my double glazing was ready for fitting. We've been waiting for this, but without an exact date we couldn't really make any arrangements.

The Monsters needed to be put into cattery and doggery.

Easier said than done. Willow started spitting when she saw the carriers. Holly hid on top of the kitchen cupboards. Frankie tried to blend in with the brown sofa. He is all black so it wasn't wholly unwasted. Ozzie ignored me. Ellie tried to climb up the wall. Charlie skulked around.
Charlie, bless his orange fur, simply looked defeated and walked into his carrier.

Ellie and Frankie were wrestled in together with only minimal bloodshed. Willow and Holly were eventually coaxed into their separate carriers, although the hoover was deployed to get them down from their respective hidey holes.

That left Oz. And we only have four carriers.

This never used to be a problem. Harvey and Frankie would share, Ellie and Charlie would share and Willow and Holly had their own. Willow and Holly don't share well, with the exception of their claws.

Now we have Oz. He adores Charlie, so the plan was to squidge them in together. My two fat boys.

Charlie had other ideas. He wanted that carrier to himself, and he refused to budge. This of course was a problem as we don't have another carrier. We briefly toyed with the idea of putting him in with Willow or Holly, but decided pretty quickly that it wouldn't work. With the sheer effort it takes to get Frankie and Ellie in, it wasn't worth getting them out and swapping them around.

So...

This is embarrassing.

We put Oz in a wicker picnic basket. And did the buckles up.

We had to borrow my parents Land Rover to get there. Even with years of playing Tetris, there was just no way that three adults, five baskets containing six cats and a car sick rottweiler were going to fit in a small three door car. Even in the Land Rover it was a tight squeeze.

We set off. Lila was sick. Oz kept toppling his basket. All six cats discovered a talent for opera. Lila was sick again. I got lost. Charlie started howling. Holly joined in. Oz tried to escape the basket. Lila was sick again.

Of course, the cats refused to leave their carriers when we arrived. Ellie was so reluctant to enter the cattery that she managed to hang on when the carrier was completely vertical.
Thankfully Lila trotted off with nary a backwards glance.

I went to work. I had a meeting to get to. Naturally I rushed there, arriving with seconds to spare, to find out that he was running late and only had a few minutes to spare.

My meeting, for which I had spent an hour on the train, lasted seven and a half minutes. I'm so glad that I bothered to show up.

So I sat down, and enjoyed the three hours I had to kill before my next meeting. I wandered through London, arriving on time at my next client. To find out that she was in Manchester. Meeting cancelled.

I went home to a very empty house. Not that I stayed for long, as I had to pick up the Boy and my sister from Heathrow airport. They had spent the week in Mauritius, and as my sister's birthday present (she was 26 yesterday), I agreed to pick her up.

So my mother and I set off, braving rush hour traffic through roadworks. It took forever. My sister's bag was held up, and so I drove round the airport several times. I had to illegally park so that I could run in before I wet myself, and then finally I saw the Boy.

If you were at Heathrow last night, I'd just like to apologise on behalf of the excited small blonde boy who screamed and dropped his bags when he saw Auntie and Nanny waiting for him. If he ran into you before he threw himself at me, I'd also like to apologise.

So we then came back through the traffic. And went home to a very empty house.

But, this was all for a purpose; well maybe not the jaunt to Heathrow. At a very indecent hour this morning, there was a knock at the door and the first of many requests for a cup of tea. I left for work shortly after every single window had been ripped out.

When I got home, all was complete, although the teabags had all mysteriously disappeared. It looks great. We have a front door that actually shuts properly, and windows that can be locked in an open position without kitties making an escape. No more condensation. It cost a small fortune but it needed to be done.

I cannot describe how empty the house feels without the Monsters. I'm constantly looking for them, wondering where they are. This morning, I tripped over the Baron's white socks (he is really crap about puttng them in the washing basket) and black shirt, and apologised to what I thought was Ozzie!

I keep finding myself checking the time because I am ready to walk Lila. I found myself standing in the kitchen holding the kibble tub for the cats wondering where they all were.

Still, they will all be back home tomorrow morning. I can't wait!

Where did June go?

I blinked and missed it. I swear it was May a couple of days ago.

I still haven't downloaded my beach photo's yet, nor have I managed to get a picture of my dress. The flower picture didn't even come out.

The garden is in full swing. We have harvested our early potatoes (and they are simply divine), and our strawberries are bursting out of their pots. We have had peas, carrots, peppers, lettuce and various onions, and we have been busy with planting succession crops.

We have been tidying the house up, because we are hoping for a new addition to the household soon. Not long ago I got an e-mail asking if I could help find homes for a litter of kittens. They did have owners lined up for them, but when the kittens were born blind, all the owners backed out.

So I've spoken to the current owners and they will get back to me. When I told them we already have six monsters (and one is of those is partially sighted) she was clearly excited. Other people have called already, but since the kittens are blind, they are being very careful over who gets them, and so hopefully we will soon be welcoming another cat to our home.

Willow escaped on Saturday. She snuck out into the garden, and before we knew what had happened she was on the shed. She was standing on the shed, just out of reach, and then somehow she fell off and landed next door. For a cat with two eyes this wouldn't have been a problem, but Willow isn't the most confident jumper. There is a foot gap between our fences (contested land) and so the jump was just too much for her. So she hid under the bush.

After five hours she came out and started crying. The kind elderly lady, to whom the garden belongs, let me in to try and coax her out. For my trouble I got bitten, both by Wllow (who hates to be carried) and the fire ants that were in the grass. It was the first time in years that I wore a skirt, and typically the first time in some time I had to crawl under a bush to retrieve a cat.

I went home to treat the stings (Lila promptly licked all the cream off my leg) and to get some food for Willy. A couple of hours later, the Baron went round to try again. After a good half an hour of chasing Miss Willy, he managed to post her back over the fence into our garden. I coaxed her into the conservatory and all was well (until she tried to leg it again).

It was nice - she seemed to be very pleased to be home and safe again, as she was very cuddly and affectionate in bed. I know we overreacted to her escaping, but as you all know, Harvey's death hit me very hard and I just can't face the thought of losing another cat that way.

School is drawing to a close for the Boy, and so we have had a tea and cake afternoon, a play, and Sports Day is on Thursday. For someone with no children, I seem to spend a lot of time at school talking to his teachers.

Work is slowing down for the summer. I am enjoying the more relaxed pace after the frantic workload of the previous six months. Admittedly, I should be writing a report now, but I really can't be bothered tonight.

The diet. Ha!

I lost the ten pounds I really wanted to. And I seem to have lost motivation. I put the weight on mainly because with the torn tendon, I couldn't do as much walking as I usually do (nor could I manage stairs very well). Now that it has healed, I am back to maintaining this weight. I've been this weight for several years and my diet is not that bad. I don't want to eat less, and so far, finding time to exercise hasn't happened. And until I start exercising, I'm just not going to lose anything. I know that from long experience.

We have had lots of RSVP's come back. So far everyone we invited is coming. I'm glad, of couse, since we only invited people we wanted there (with the exception of the Arsewipe Brother, who had to be invited) but I do feel a little overwhelmed with the whole wedding thing.

I've bought my shoes, and when I get round to taking pictures of the dress and flowers, I will also take a picture of the shoes. They are a non traditional black, with a zirconia and amethyst detail on the front. I love them, and they were half price. I figured that most people will be more entranced by my beautifully corsetted chest to notice that the shoes are black and not white.

I also bought my wedding underwear. The Baron will be in for a shock. I didn't opt for some white frilly lacey number. I went for the Bridget Jones style "suck everything up" control knickers. They don't look great on, but the end result is worth it!

And that takes us neatly to the present day.

It is just gone 10pm. My laptop is open on the dining room table, so I can at least pretend that I am working, when in reality I am blogging and watching "The Empire Strikes Back". I have a cup of tea next to me and an iced chocolate bun that I baked over the weekend when I was feeling particularly homey and in need of cakey comfort. I blame it on the skirt I was wearing.

The rain is beating down. The gutter on the conservatory can't keep up with the torrents, and is bending threateningly. We keep meaning to fix it, but we've never got around to doing it. Lila is barking at the Baron. He is trying to get her to howl and they are driving me bonkers. Ellie is sleeping in the pepper plant in the conservatory, Charlie and Ozzie are playing upstairs, Frankie is cleaning himself with his ears folded back, Willow is snoozing on her rottweiler and Holly is in the spare bedroom under a chair.

Very peaceful. And now I am going to gather my sleepy cats, and take them to bed for a cuddle.
Goodnight!