Domestic Drama

If my toe continues to change colour I may photograph it. For a horrible couple of hours this morning I thought it was broken. Yesterday afternoon I tripped on a paving stone and stubbed my toe. It was painful, but the pain seemed to subside. When I went to bed I saw it had turned purple. A night’s sleep, and it hurt going up and down the stairs. The whole toe is rather red and the purple patch means I shan’t be carrying out my plan to get my toenails painted after all, but the pain is minimal and I have no problem walking.

Such drama.

More drama over the fruit flies in the compost. There aren’t a huge number and they disperse pretty quickly, but they have become the new pawn in the continuing exertion of control by one of my neighbours who thinks the compost bin should be removed. If anyone reading this has any hot tips on products that discourage the fruit flies, do let me know. The only ones I have seen promise mass extermination. No wonder that I am thinking of braving the rain tomorrow and taking MasterB up to das Boot until Thursday. Wednesday’s forecast is for for a dry day, with rain returning on Thursday. I have work on Friday and over the weekend, so I can’t stay longer.

MasterB has his own drama with yet another cat appearing in the garden, this time a very pretty tabby. It was quite friendly to me, and I couldn’t decide whether it was a potential feline pal for my boy, or yet another aggressor. I’m not sure Masterb knew either. The tabby left without any fisticuffs, but MasterB is using the indoor facilities all the time now. I imagine that if you are just settling down for a quiet pee or a poo in the bushes and are ambushed by an eager black and white youngster or other moggy with pretensions to your territory, it must be pretty unnerving. So we are getting through copies of the Evening Standard like billy-oh, and twice today the bathroom has had to be freshened with rose scented room spray after MasterB evacuated his bowels. Twice. That was a surprise. He has already surprised me by having a daily poo. On das Boot, where I have had ample opprtunity to observe his toilet habits, he only poos every other day.

I have been on play duty too. He has been out for a while tonight, but he’s obviously quite tense about the whole garden sharing thing, so he has preferred to nag me to wave feathers on sticks and throw small objects he can chase. Getting my paperwork done this afternoon was a bit of a challenge. Right now he’s lying on his back by the chair in a sunbather pose. I hope this means he will be happy to sleep when I go to bed shortly.

Nightbather

Nightbather

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8 thoughts on “Domestic Drama

    • It is such a trusting pose. It cheers me as I know he is finding the cat politics stressful.

      I think I shall photograph my toe and post a picture before I head East (if I do, I must check what the weather is up to there today).

  1. Of course we want to know: which toe?

    Best wishes on a swift recovery, on the death of the fruit flies (I have no suggestions, we live in a veritable desert where the flies are not so aggressive).

    As for MasterB and his indoor habits – I think, latrine duty aside – this might be the old boy becoming a bit more of the Old Boy. Though a tabby to play with would be an asset in terms of calendar pics. Getting to be around that time again, like the wintering birds returning the evaluation of MasterB poses must come into view.

    • Big toe, right for. Photo to follow.
      Old boy?!?! He’s only six. When he gets worried by other cats he retreats to his indoor domain. When I first got him he had very little experience of outdoors and always used the indoor facilities. It was a major breakthrough when he began to use the garden. This is in direct contrast with Cat who thought litter trays were for cissies, and only used it on a regular basis his last winter when he was sixteen.
      Poor MasterB thinks he might like to go out then gets cold feet about the whole thing and comes rushing up the stairs again.

    • These proliferated in the week of hot weather (aka summer) while I was away. Unfortunately that week was also, I have learned, when someone filled the bins with an old kitchen and no one could throw their rubbish away. It piled up outside, bigger flies arrived as if for a Dytera Glasto and the smell was terrible. To make matters worse, some people thought putting their general household waste in the compost and recycling bins would be a good idea. This is what I came home to!

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