Archive for September, 2018

Letter To My Only Sister

September 24, 2018

Hi Darling,

Just a quick letter as I have been somewhat preoccupied of late. Nothing serious, just life in general.

The Food Bank on Tuesdays comes around with alarming regularity although the food is always excellent. And everything grows at twice the rate around here, so keeping the garden under control can be a bit of a nightmare.

I seem to have acquired a couple of stray cats, which wasn’t difficult as the whole village is currently inundated with strays who breed endlessly, and no one does anything about it. So more likely the cats acquired me.

Marion, my neighbour, has had four of them sterilised, and one of mine appears to be female, so she is for the chop as soon as I can get her to the Vet. I can just about afford having her seen to. And I am not having her dropping kittens on my bed, which seems to be her favourite place of rest. I threatened to drown them if this happens, and don’t think I couldn’t. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking of. But Dom balked at the thought and has decided to take a day off to drive me to the Vet’s surgery.

I have managed to get worm and flea pills down their throats. But that cost an arm and a leg as well. I swear I spend more on animals than anything else these days. Karma, I suspect. I have had so many good ones who were never ill, so I guess this is pay back time.

It’s a bit of a bugger not having regular access to a car, but Dom does have to work, which incidentally is all going rather well. Quite a lot of people need Gardeners around here, thank God, as well I know, having mowed many a lawn when I needed to earn money. And at least he inherited my very expensive tools which were far from past it.

This Summer has been really good, and still the Sun shines. It has reminded me of one of the reasons for why I came here. Although I could toss you for whether Brittany or South Wales is the wettest in Winter. All Celts, Love, so we both probably finished up where we most belong.

I hope as ever, that all is well with you, and that Ian and Lee are okay.

Have a lovely birthday.

Loads of love.

Maureen. xxxx

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Silly Billy.

September 19, 2018

Tis strange that one Blog can motivate another.  Or one experience can make one think.

Silly Billy is a stray cat who thinks that I am his enemy, when in fact he is a very beautiful thing,  Pure Siamese, if this is at all possible.  Perhaps it is just in the genes.  He is undoubtedly a Stray

Some six months ago he started to come into the house to nick the dog food when no one was watching.  So I thought that I would have to feed him, although I didn’t actually have to, did I?

Charlotte, as blind as a bat, but we all know about her, didn’t even realise that he was nicking her dinner.  So he and me came to an arrangement.  I feed him his food, and don’t think he doesn’t know.  9am of the clock  and 5pm of the clock, he is there.  He scoots like the clappers out of hell if he sees me even looking at him.  But he always comes back later when my back is turned.

He sleeps on the  Chest at the end of my bed, But he is always gone like the wind almost to the minute I wake up.

No, I don’t think I am ever going to get him to trust me.  But it doesn’t really matter.  I have managed to get a few worm pills and a few flea pills down his throat.  Eat it or starve, Our Kid.  I might be a bit of a fool when it comes to recalcitrant animals, but I ain’t that daft.

And in the end it only matters that the animal should be okay.

 

 

 

 

Puppies.

September 18, 2018

I think I’m getting another dog. I say, “Think” because the puppies are only two weeks old.  Many a slip, as they say in Scotland.

Charlotte, as ever, staggers on, but she was a real sweetie with a much beleaguered kitten that I found on the road and hoped to save, although not to be. It was just too young.

After my lovely Rom had to be put down I was without a dog for six months. It was awful. However, I hung about and waited for another dog to fall into my lap, as it were. And so came Charlotte the ghastly Pug who was never going to be a Lap Dog. Rescued at the age of seven and still surviving five years later. Poor little soul.
So I have been thinking a little ahead.

I have never before Charlotte, had much truck with rescuing dogs. I like to know where they have come from and how they have been treated. And I’m not wrong about that, I now know for certain. Somedebody beat Charlotte which was a battle and a half to get beyond. Who would beat a Pug for God’s sake?

So back to puppies. All of my many other dogs have been puppies. And not a bad one among them. I don’t actually train dogs. I just tell them to behave, along with the children. It works for all of them. Probably something to do with Alpha Mater. Wolf packs are always run by Females.

Anyway, I was at a very nice gathering of friends on Sunday evening, all talking rubbish, especially me, when someone told me, in passing that her friend’s Long Haired Dachshund had just dropped a litter. And I thought, “Oh My God, this is the sign. This is what I have been waiting for.” Although I have never owned a Dachshund. Try spelling that for starters.

We shall see, obviously. But I’ll let you know.