Excuses: None. Well, if I truly push it, I could say that I have been really busy at work since Jurien unexpectedly resigned and left. But that has only been for the past week. So. No excuses.
During the weeks since the last blog, not a day has gone by on which I haven't though about something for the blog. Somehow, those stories evaporate and I can't remember many of them. One was going to be about staying late at work one evening, folding funeral brochures. Luckily, Martin had not been very popular in his life, and I only had 100 brochures to fold. Whatever.
The One has been working on a long blog, documenting some of the highs and lows of our day to day life. Hopefully I will be able to publish it soon. In the meantime, something very exciting has happened:
Last night, while lazing in front of the TV, I had an unexpected sms from Mother, asking if we could take in an abandoned kitten a relative had found in her garage, weak from hunger, dehydrated and exhausted. We had a brief discussion, which lasted for about ten milliseconds, and then let Mother know that we would, could we come tomorrow?
And so, our family has grown to six souls. This is about as much as our current bed, budget and sanity can handle. So. Snip snip, even if only figuratively.
The dogs are fascinated and intrigued by the tiny bundle we are giving so much attention to. But they are cool with it. Just go with the flow.
Lizz was, of course, not impressed at all. At first, she growled and hissed. I think the photo speaks for itself. (The pictures are published without the usual Adobe filter, since I seem to have inadvertently uninstalled Photoshop and can't locate my installation disks.) Lizz was shocked and felt rejected. After hanging around for a while, doling out dirty looks to all and sundry, she left and went downstairs. Her shoulders were hanging. She had no will to live.
A little later, she was back and meticulously inspected all of the baby’s accoutrements. She seemed to have changed and had a different air about her. I remember thinking she had turned from a princess into a queen. Her eyes were still shooting daggers at me, though. I figure that a queen has to be dignified and composed; no more teenage princess fun for her. No more lazing in front of the heater on a summer’s evening, flat on your back. No more chasing Geoffrey (the proper spelling, no matter what I’ve said before) and wildly streaking across the room. Still, she accepted her fate solemnly and became HRH Queen Elizabeth III, the magnificent. I am still amazed at the beauty, the elegance and grace that she has been radiating since then.
She invited me downstairs (a polite way of ordering someone somewhere), to clean out her indoor lavatory. She told me to use the hand brush and shovel, since she would not be able to stand the annoying noise the vacuum cleaner made just then. It felt like I was being reprimanded for the coup d’etat without giving her fair warning. I cleaned the overused lavatory, vandalised by Alfred, to the best of my abilities, which of course only met two out of five of HRH’s quality standards. To add insult to injury, I then committed the cardinal sin of taking Vicky to inaugurate the clean lavatory. Luckily, she didn’t do anything. Even better, I don’t think Lizz noticed what I had done. Dodged a bullet there, I did.
Short note from HRH Queen Elizabeth III: I know everything.
I have just realized I have not given any description of dear baby Vicky. Of course, her official name is HRH Princess Victoria. She is an American Brown Tabby (-ish) of about four weeks old. Bluest eyes, which I am sure will turn green in the not too distant future. She has very striking markings on her face and has the makings of an exceptionally charming cat. Her little rump is tiny and bony. She can’t eat solids yet, even though she has the most adorable tiny white teeth. We are feeding her baby cat food, which she seems to like. She loves being held and comforted. I would think that she must be very scared and confused. We will do the best we can for her.
As you know, in my universe, cats are royalty.
Written by I