Crystal means clear, running streams; elegant cut glass; New Age hippies divining auras; that Turner Prize winning artist whose name I have forgot who grew bright blue crystals in a council flat that was due for demolition; MasterB having problems peeing.
My feline pee collection technique, a skill I look forward to adding to my CV, will be used again in a few weeks. The results from the last sample have revealed crystals in MasterB’s urine. Lots of crystals. Not the sort anyone is going to use to advertise the clarity of water or wave over you to heal minor illnesses.
Hopefully a change of diet to a special food will dissolve those crystals and allow him to pee easily again. He’ll start it next week and be on it for at least a month. Then it’s pee collection time again, another test, and we’ll take it from there.
Meanwhile I have another cat lying beside me. Fido seems to be making great headway in his desire to live in the house. He is upside down on the sofa to my left. My hand rests on his tummy. Pip has just arrived and come up beside him and may harsh his mellow, but my guess is that it is when Cousin gets home that Fido may find himself unceremoniously ejected from the fireside.
Celia is looking after MasterB and giving him cuddles. I suspect he’ll demanding some play as well. I’ll be home very late tomorrow but hopefully the fireworks will be long over and he’ll be able to go out and play.
In the meantime, Cousin’s Husband and I are chilling in front of the television and watching Paul O’Grady’s Dogs, a programme filmed in Battersea Cats and Dogs Home. Let’s just say it’s best to have a few hankies at the ready. I’ll see you when my I’ve stopped blowing my nose.