Two of my aunts have birthdays this weekend. Both are Mother’s younger sisters. On Saturday, Aunt, who lives relatively near Mother and visits her as often as she can, turns ninety. The baby of the family, Aunt-in-Belfast, is a mere eighty-six on Sunday. I am feeling quite pleased with my organisation. Flowers will be delivered to the remaining sibling, Mother’s adored younger brother. He and she are only eleven months apart and were like twins. She still talks about her brother, though she hasn’t seen him for several years now. She had two more brothers, but Brother is the one she loved and loves jealously. He will take them to Aunt-in-Belfast who is very bad at answering the door. He has a key.
Meanwhile, Aunt should also be receiving flowers; a nice big bunch of tulips. She is a chocoholic, so some high quality dark chocolate from the Hotel Chocolat will be delivered too. She used to always give me good quality, dark, expensive chocolate until I confessed that I prefer milk chocolate. I am a pleb in things chocolate. For her main present, I am thinking about a Blackberry Playbook, but I need to find out how much the wifi would cost her. However, I was looking at derrycats page and saw she had published a book about pets and God. I am missing the religious gene, but lots of my family have it. Mother’s ambition was to be a missionary and Aunt is a stalwart of her local Baptist church. She also adores animals. Of course she does. That is the dominant gene in the family. Anyone claiming to be a blood relative and yet not an animal lover would be regarded with the deepest suspicion in our clan. My grandfather, a Bad Man, was skilled with horses. He was horrid to people, or rather to his wife and children. Make that wives, though we don’t talk about the second one much. But the crime that has condemned him most comprehensively was an act of gratuitous cruelty to a kitten, simply to show his children he was boss. Fat chance of getting past St Peter with that one in the notebooks. I trust the kitten was sitting on a comfy cloud purring loudly and being scratched behind the ears by adoring angels when my grandfather was shown the door.
Back to derrycats. She is in the US. Aunt is in Suffolk. Luckily ABE books turned up trumps, and so Aunt should be the happy possessor of a book that promises to explore the spiritual aspects of owning and loving a pet.
The cards are in the post. I do hope both aunts have fabulous birthdays.
I wish them a happy birthday and I can’t imagine why people don’t love animals. My grandfather used to say, “The more I get to know people, the more I like my animals.”
Both aunts have calendars of MasterB in their homes, but only Aunt has met him. Aunt-in-Belfast had a ginger and white cat called Janus, Jan for short. He climbed through her bathroom window after being hit by a car. she got him sorted out and adopted him. He liked to sit on the gatepost looking up and down the road.
Oh poor Janus, but I’m glad he found a great home. I can picture him sitting on the gatepost. It’s a nice thought actually.
He used to follow her to the shops too. She adored him.
When I lived in Colorado years ago, I had a cat who would follow me and the dogs when we went for walks. However, he did his best to hide. I think he was stalking us. I thought it was adorable, but never acknowledged him. I didn’t want to ruin his fun.
My grandparents’ cat used to follow me when I took their dog for a walk. there was a point where she would go no further. She would sit down and yowl. Half-Siamese, she had strong vocals. When we returned, she would stop yowling, calmly stand up and follow us home…
You see how can people not love animals. they all have such unique personalities.
Preaching to the converted!
You might not have the religious gene, but I’m guessing there’s a good chance that you’ve got the making-it-to-old-age gene!
Maybe. My father was only seventy when he died. All my mother’s sibling who survived infancy have died in age order. Mother has been the oldest for some years now. I would rather go younger than end up like my mother. Robin Cook had a good death I think.
Happy Birthday to the Aunts! I love reading your posts Isobel, just like sitting down and talking to you.
Thanks Px, that’s a very nice thing to say. 🙂
lovely! thanks for sharing….