Of Christmas and the Neighbours, Cats, Uncle Bill’s Antibiotics, and Books

So how has Christmas been for you so far? Grand, I hope.

Mine has surpassed my expectations. I had expected to enjoy myself, but I have been having a simply lovely time, far more social and far more fun than anticipated.

Drinks with neighbours; meals with neighbours; walks with neighbours; Carols with neighbours. This has been a very local Christmas.

MasterB and I still have our house guest, Cookie Cat, though MasterB seems to have decided that like fish, three days is more than long enough to have this guest staying. We are now at day four, and the cracks are starting to show. However, we have her for about another three, and I hope there will be some rapprochement and no repeat of MasterB’s growling of last night.

It works best when they occupy the flat in shifts; one in, one out. Both are out at the moment. I hope when I go to fetch MasterB shortly that Cookie will come in too and there’ll be none of that Who-Do-You-Think-You’re-Following? attitude from MasterB.
Basket Boy Continue reading

Health Bulletin

Things are slipping, it is quite obvious. I was at Buckingham Palace this afternoon, outside, not in with ER, though the flag showed she was in residence. There was no bulletin about MasterB on the gate. So I shall have to do one here.
We slept well. That’s not the royal we, I mean the residents chez IsobelandCat. For all MasterB’s protestations, and there have been more this evening, I think he is tired. He took himself back to bed after breakfast and, to all appearances, stayed there until I reached home this evening. He was pleased to see me, and we had a cuddle. He lay down by my feet. He was less pleased when I bathed his wounds, but it was fairly quick. He has had some food, sat in the hall with his left paw in the air, and gazed out of the bedroom window. Now he is having some zzzzs on my bed.
I took some photos of him, so if you are squeamish, skip this next bit. Continue reading

Neither Here Nor There

Oh the relief.

For the last few days I have had one foot metaphorically in Suffolk. I’ve been ready to pack my bags, scoop up Not Cat and head East. Mother has had a chest infection that was not responding to antibiotics. We had a bit of a wrangle with the home.

Aunt was very concerned when she visited. Mother was off colour, off her food and wheezing. No one seemed to feel a doctor’s visit was necessary. Aunt disagreed. The doctor was called. Aunt called me. I called the home and asked them to ask the doctor to call me when s/he visited.

I stayed home, sorting and shredding old papers in Mother’s files. Finally the ‘phone rang. Not the doctor; the senior nurse at the home who told me the doctor had thought her ‘more than capable of passing on a message’.

Not the point. If we didn’t think the staff capable, Mother wouldn’t be there. I still wanted to speak to the doctor. Fortunately, that was achieved. It was the out of hours service who did not know of the protocols we had agreed with the surgery back in March. She gave me some good advice, said my mother was on antibiotics and expected to respond in forty-eight hours.

I sent an email to the home expressing my full confidence in the staff and explaining I still needed to speak to her doctor myself. Continue reading