I am sure MasterB’s file must have a sticker on it that denotes ‘anxious owner – expect ‘phone calls’.
Anyway, the vet, when I ‘phoned, (now I am wondering if they might place bets on how long it will be before I call with a question) said MasterB should be fine outside.She advised against covering his wound, said that it was fine for it to be oozing a bit as that meant it was healing, but if he was still limping on Monday I should bring him back.
So out we went.
MasterB had become relatively resigned to his incarceration, and at first did not follow me, but when I picked him up and placed him in the hall he hightailed it down the stairs. I wondered if he would guess an outing was in the offing when the collar went round his neck.
My plan was to chaperon him. I had a camera and some notes to read. I reckoned he would get tired quite quickly and want to come back in.
How wrong I was.
Raised Paw, Raised Tail
What Was That?
I am smiling more. I know I am. The work isn’t exactly dropping into my lap, but there’s enough to keep me hopeful. And way above that, there’s this feeling of lightness, of a weight being lifted off me. Like I am breathing properly again for the first time in a while.
There was a lot about the salaried job that I have left that I liked, and I don’t just mean the regular, reliable income. But some of the people were, to put it mildly, difficult. I had a boss who never praised me to my face. Instead she would always find something to complain about. Her attitude was picked up on by some staff, and there were a few who copied her example. Others would talk quietly to me, supportive but not obviously so. Too dangerous. Yet my work was recognised by outsiders, in reports; rated as outstanding. Reports and ratings my boss didn’t share with me. Didn’t repeat to my colleagues. Reports I fortunately read for myself. It took its toll. I feel as though I have spent several years just trying to keep afloat. Now I find I can swim. Magic. Continue reading
Tonight I have been giving MasterB some well deserved attention. He had been shut up in das Boot the whole long sunny day. The marina, empty when I left this morning (doctor’s certificate, registering Mother’s death, get her bank account frozen, seeing aunt, liaising with the boys and the undertaker) was buzzy. Among the faces, I saw a lovely couple who have boat that is a bit of a project. I waved, but their heads were down and they were working. MasterB was happy to be cuddled and interested in the activity beyond our gunwale, but not tempted to venture out. I needed to get some more drinking water and went over to the tap, waving agin at the couple. This time they waved back and smiled. I walked over. How are you? She asked. Pretty shit, I said. Mother died yesterday. Bless her, she climbed straight off the boat and gave me a hug. He stayed working but listening. I’m sorry about your mother he said. Thanks, I answered, and suddenly remembered he had met her. You tried to persuade her to drink neat gin a few years ago I said. His face split into a grin. That’s right, he said. It was in the marquee. I think I wrote about it, but it would have been on MyT, so perhaps I shall look it out when I am back in London with a more reliable connection. They left the marina taking some of my washing with them. It’s not quite the transformation scene in Cinderella, but yes, I shall have clean underwear for the weekend thanks to some very kind and generous people. They will be working on their boat tomorrow when I am collecting some of Mother’s things from the home and talking to the undertaker again. Continue reading
I’ve just been ordering a tag to attach to Not Cat’s collar which is looking increasingly like a charm bracelet.
This one will state that he has been chipped, give my mobile number, and request that anyone who finds him calls me.
The last two mornings have been a race to get to work on time as Not Cat has been AWOL. I replaced the Loc8tor batteries tonight, as one was dead, so that hasn’t been any help. My heart has been in my mouth, fearing he has been lifted for his pretty looks and gentle ways. Neighbours have checked their gardens, and I had to knock on doors and send several emails when he did turn up.
My guess is he’s found his way inside someone’s house, because his paws are warmer than I’d expect when he does reappear. Whether that person knows he’s there or not is a moot point.