I had planned to ‘blog’ (or is rant more relevant?) over the weekend, but ‘stuff’ got in the way. Having returned home from work on Friday evening, with only one thought on my mind… that first glass of Prosecco, that Fizzy Friday moment when you can finally relax in the knowledge that you have the whole weekend ahead.
However, things never turn out how you expect, and I found the love of my life, laid out on the landing, having difficulty breathing and clearly not himself. So what do I do? Google the symptoms (every symptom on google leads to death by the way…). The conclusion? Heart problems. I just knew that he wasn’t well and needed to do something quickly… ‘The Bloke (my other love in life), insisted that I was indeed over reacting, as ‘he’s a cat’ (bet you thought I as callously describing him laid out on the landing..?). Twenty minutes later we are at the vets with a distressed cat and more distressed owner… Injections and tears later, we returned home to return the next day for further injections.
I really didn’t appreciate how much my large (some would reference him as fat, though I prefer a ‘large mixed breed moggy’ as we have no idea of his parentage), ginger rescue cat meant to me, until then. He’s always been around, listening to my ranting about various things, from the state of my neighbour (who appears to only wear a velour dressing gown at weekends, nothing else… striding out on his mobile phone…keep that image with you….), to how crap Coronation Street has become and how it was so much better with Bet Lynch and Hilda Ogden (apologies if you have stumbled on this blog and have no idea who I am referencing.. ). He’s been that consistent presence in my life that only close friends and family can better. And since I chose to follow my ‘career’ I no longer live close to my family (a mistake that I will rectify as soon as I can) and my closest friends are scattered around the UK, I realise that I could become that stereo ‘mad cat’ lady…. though that is so gender sensitive, is there such a reference to ‘daft dog’ man or ‘bonkers cat bloke’? Nope of course not…
So Fizzy Friday was put on hold for this weekend and I found myself in the role of cat nurse, trying to dispense tablets into an 8 kilo cat…. It is said that you should learn something new every week… that’s my new skill for the week… Next weekend, how to go into M&S and NOT buy a Dine in for £10…..
Not Ready for Cardigans 