Marching onwards

Fanfare please!

And here it is:

http://dmouse.typepad.com/marching_on/

Older than me!

Happy Birthday, dear Baron!

He has attained the grand old age of 28 today. And he is not too happy about that!

Stock-take

I am back on a diet. A proper diet. With exercise. I will lose this excess weight and keep it off.

I have booked Lila's puppy training classes. She isn't allowed out for another three and a half weeks but as soon as she has the all clear, her bottom is going to training and agility. In the meantime, we will continue as we are. Lots of training and games and marching round the garden on lead.

I will get a new lead for my amp and get back to playing my bass again. It is not that much fun without an amp.

The Baron will turn his socks out or he will have no clean socks.

I will finish my photo album of the Harvey Cat. I have picked the pictures, I just need some printer ink to print them.

I will get on with writing my book.

I will decide whether to stay at Blogger or move to Typepad. It's free here, but I like the features there, especially the referral stats.

I will get my hair cut.

Older and wiser?

I'm 27 now. Crap.

Things to be pleased about:

I live with my best friend and partner.
I have seven great pets.
I'm qualified (at last!).
I own my own house.
My family are reasonably normal.

Things that aren't so great/need work:

I miss my Harvey Cat.
I am three years away from thirty.
I wanted to have finished having children by thirty. I think aiming to have at least commenced trying by thirty is the best I can manage.
Getting the Baron to turn his socks the right way out.
Stopping Lila sneaking upstairs to piss on the carpet.

Charlie's adoptaversary

We've had Charlie one whole year.

In that time, he has gone from being a scared and vicious beast to a love bunny who wants to be held all the time. From permanently pissed off, to laid back and mellow. It is an amazing change.

Charlie's previous "owners" moved and left him behind. He lived on the streets for three months and was periodically fed by neighbours (when they could find him). During his street days he was kicked and beaten. By the time he reached the shelter he was almost impossible to handle. He bit all of the staff, and was days away from being put to sleep after a month long stay.

We were out in the vicinity and decided to have a look. I accidently turned onto the motorway instead of carrying on round the roundabout. But for some reason, I really wanted to go. I went to the next junction, turned around and came back.

There he was. A huge lump under the blankets in a cage, with a big notice asking people not to touch the cage. In blatent disregard, I tapped the cage to see who was in there. All I saw were the most beautiful amber eyes staring balefully out from the blanket. Pleading to get out of that cage.

I was not allowed to go in and see how he reacted to me - the staff refused to handle him. I looked at the Baron, and he just nodded. We took a huge chance, and said we would just take him.

He used to bite, hiss, scratch and growl at anything that moved, and a lot of things that didn't. He hid under the bed, and fought with the others (originally Harvey, Frankie and Ellie).

He hated me. He adored the Baron though and used to sit on his lap and hiss at me. Then one day, he sat on my lap. I rubbed his cheeks, he bit me but stayed sitting, and from then on, he has been my cat.

At this moment in time, he is stretched out upside down on my bed, in contact with not just Frankie, but Ozzy as well. He hasn't batted a paw at Oz once, and he is quite happy to share the bed with him. He tolerates Lila. Just.

He loves to have his head and face rubbed. In the last few weeks he has actively sought out belly rubs at night. He loves to lie on me when I am in bed, paws resting on my chin and whiskers tickling my face.

Happy Adoptaversary, Charlie. I hope we have many many more years together.

Biscuits

Never leave a small boy alone with biscuits. Ever. You would think that I knew that, but it slipped my mind.

The Boy was in the mood for biscuits. Not dancin'. Or romancin', even though it is Valentine's Day and he sent a card to his girlfriend.

So into the biscuit tin he went. Except he didn't fancy the whole biscuit. No, he wanted the cream in the middle. It is the best bit, after all.

The Boy selected his biscuit, broke it open, licked the cream off, and put the "clean" biscuits back in the tin.

Five times. Ten licked biscuits.

He confessed later that day, when it was noted that there were a lot of broken biscuit pieces in the tin.

The dog enjoyed his afternoon tea.

Lila

Dawg.

Naughty dawg. Just snuck upstairs and pissed on the floor.

Lila

Ozzy

The new one.

Handsome boy or what?!

He is very affectionate and very noisy. Likes to eat a lot too.

Ozzy

Ellie

This is proof positive that Ellie is possessed by something.

Ellie

Willow

Unusually, Willow is in her bed and not on the stuffed rottweiler. This is how she spends her days when she is not eating.

Very quiet girl, phased by little. Lila just paid a visit and Willow didn't bother to move.

Willow

Charlie

Still a little on the tubby side, my Charlie cat.

He is a little put out by the new arrival, being possibly the most possessive cat in the world. But he will survive and learn to share.

This was taken a minute or so ago. Charlie has taken to rolling around the floor when he wants attention. I like it more than Hollie's method of beating the crap out of me.

Charlie

Hollie

Hollie is still a little camera shy. However, she is a vicious thug who will beat up anything that gets in her personal space.

Or anyone who doesn't give in to her incessant demands for attention. For an old lady, she is tough. At this moment, she is standing in front of the monitor crying and bopping my hands.

When I get old, I want to be like Hollie.

Hollie

Frankie

Frankie, as of two minutes ago.

He is laying in the hall upstairs keeping watch.

Frankie

Loose ends

OK.

River Cottage is a TV show. Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall upped sticks and went to live in the country. He grew all his veg, raised livestock and basically lived as a true smallholder. Great TV, and very inspirational for those into that kind of thing.

Ozzy is here and there will be pictures soon. For some bizarre reason all the cats are accepting him and he is currently stationed on my bed with the others. Frankie has already groomed him, which is pretty damn amazing. He is a sweet boy, and I am sure that Harvey had a paw in me finding him.

There will also be pictures of our new water feature soon, but the garden is in a mess because we had to remove a tree today. As you do. So when it is respectable, you will see the shrine to Star Wars.

I may have planted all those seeds, but Miss GreenFingers I am not. Most things I grow die, and I am not holding out much hope for the veg. However, the Baron is in charge of all plant stock as of now, under the supervision of my parents (Veg Growers Extraordinaire) and so hopefully we will actually get some veg out of all this.

Our garden isn't huge by any means (our garden is smaller than a double garage) but with a combination of raised beds, hanging baskets and lots of containers we are able to grow an awful lot. I also have some sunflowers to plant, and those will probably go out the front, near Harvey's grave.

The weather has been pretty mild - we have had daffodils already and a couple of trees have gone into bloom. It is great that we are able to start now, and we are really excited! I checked the seeds I planted during the week and my broccoli is looking good.

So other than the general election, this will be a good spring!

Cheery

This post will be cheery. I've been miserable for too long.

Well, I am still miserable, but if I think cheery thoughts, maybe I will become cheery.

So without further ado, I bring you.....the cheeriness.

1. My birthday present arrived from my parents today. A little early, but 9 whole hours of River Cottage is just what a miserable Mouse needs. That and brownies, and they are in the oven.

2. My cycle has returned to normal. At last.

3. Our newest addition, Ozzy, will be coming home on Saturday. He has had a lot of teeth removed, and is recovering nicely from surgery.

4. Lila is doing well, and is biting a little less. The Boy's class have requested I take her in one afternoon so they can all see her, and I'll take any opportunity to educate kids about good animal care!

5. I have planted all my seeds for a bumper crop. We have:

carrots;
potatoes (pink fir apple and maris piper);
broccoli;
cabbage;
cucumber;
lettuce;
garlic;
onions;
spring onions;
peas;
french beans;
runner beans;
tomatoes (two kinds);
peppers;
leeks;
courgettes;
artichokes;
strawberries;
gooseberries;
raspberries;
chives;
chillies; and
a million different herbs.

My orange and lemon trees are doing better now that Charlie has stopped using them as a temporary litter tray. The olives are good too.

6. I have sorted out some easy work for next week. It is half term for the Boy, Valentine's day (14th), Charlie's adoptaversary (15th), my birthday (16th), and the Baron's birthday (18th). So I need an easy week!

7. We only have one more extortionate council tax bill to pay (they forgot to charge us for the first three months we lived here, so we have been paying double to catch up) and one more career development loan payment to make. Then we shall have some more money. Nice!

8. We now have a Boba Fett water feature along side Dart Vader. The fish seem unimpressed.

I think that is enough cheeriness for one evening. I wouldn't want to overdo it!

Bloody subconscious

I had a horrible dream last night.

I dreamt that the Baron had only a few hours to live after being poisoned (and no, I hadn't been watching the Simpsons!). He was paralysed on our bed, and for some reason I was sent to Australia that day. As you are.

He just stayed in that limbo state, waiting to die, and I stayed with him (when I returned from Australia a few hours later - great transport!). Just waiting.

It was horrible. I just sat and held his hand, whilst crying.

The legacy of that dream has stayed with me all day. Everything feels a little off kilter, out of focus.

Has it only been....

...two days since I last posted? It feels much longer.

I will post some dawg pictures soon........I really will. Lila is simply gorgeous (if a little on the bitey side) and is growing like a weed. Or is it a wild flower?

In the meantime, we have been busy with socialising the young Miss. She is very taken with her uncle, and he with her. Very cute to watch a huge dog playing so gently with a puppy, even when that puppy takes incredible liberties. She clambers all over his huge head and he gums her. She steals his food. He sniffs her girly bits.

In cat news, Willow has taken to sleeping on the stuffed rottweiler upstairs. All the time. I'm not sure whether she actually gets up more than twice a day, which would conveniently coincide with feeding time. She just loves that rottweiler, and likes to be stroked whilst wrapped around its head. Hopefully this bodes well for her long-term relationship with the dawg.

Ellie appears to be possessed by Harvey. This is very strange, but she has picked up every one of his annoying habits with gusto. She likes to stand on the balcony and howl. She knocks things over when she doesn't get her own way. She bosses everyone around, and this has only happened in the last two weeks. It is nice to feel that he lives on here with us all, but luckily Ellie has kept all of her own sweet habits (and her less sweet ones, like trying to stick her arse in my face).

Charlie and Frankie are the same as ever. Laid back and lazy. My wonderful loving boys. They are always together now, and my fear of Frankie's face remaining forever unwashed has blown away after watching Charlie tenderly cleaning Frankie's face.

Hollie is brave. She still spends a little time under the bed, but mostly she she sleeps in the bathroom or on my pillow. She will corner Lila and whop her across the face before running. She still whops me in the face if I don't wake up at night and fuss her. She has a very loving heart, but a nervous body.

A cage in the local RSPCA centre may well be empty in the near future. A pure white boy with black splodges and a thirst for love and affection is awaiting the results of his blood tests. He is not a replacement for Harvey, but he reminds me of him in a very good way. Like the way I found Charlie, something led me there to find him.

In people news, the Baron is still off work with stress. At the moment, he is fart arsing around the garden and digging up the beds. He seems quite content and we will have an amazing vegetable garden come spring, thanks to his hard work.

Me?

Good days and bad days. The weekend, and last night were bad.

Today is a little better. But even now, as I sit here and look out over the gardens and fields, part of me expects a little white and tabby face to appear from behind the fence and come running in to me (Harvey would shimmy up the conservatory to come in at the window, miaowing and purring at the same time). And it hurts everytime I remember that he will never do that again.

The death of a cat is insignificant in the grand scheme of things. People say

"it was only a cat"
"these things happen"
"enjoy your other cats"
"you can always get another"
"its been two weeks, get over it"

but to me, this is a very real and painful loss. I loved that cat so damn much.

I do love all of my cats very much, and we are adopting another cat, but this doesn't in anyway stop the pain of knowing that my beloved, my first, my special cat is no more. It might have been two weeks, but that has just been two weeks in the rest of my lifetime that I will live without my HarveyCat.

It is hard.

Pooped

Lila spent the afternoon with her Uncle Sam.

She is fast asleep downstairs, Sam is in his basket at home, the Baron is dozing on the sofa and I am falling asleep over this report I am trying to write.

Pictures tomorrow....just think huge arse boy rottweiler and little fuzzball girl rottweiler and vast quantities of drool.

The water

Something odd is going on with the water. Everywhere but here, that is.

Vast numbers of women are succumbing. Virtually every woman I met today was pregnant (and the men I met had wives who were all expecting). It appears that the women of the forums I visit are falling pregnant at the click of a mouse.

Not here. My cycle is officially fucked.

I chart, but I have no idea what is going on. Harvey's death (I tear up just writing that) has left my cycle in limbo.

And yet, abortion is the main topic of the day in blogs I visit and forums I frequent.

Some feel that life begins at conception. Some do not. Some feel that that life must be protected at all costs - that a woman must sacrifice her body for nine months to bring forth life. Some feel that there are no good reasons to abort. Some feel that there are.

People have the right to believe whatever the hell they want. And to express those beliefs.

They do not have the right to hurt others. People like Holly, who uses Cecily's tragedy to further her own cause, regardless of how much pain that might cause. People like Holly, who hijack good and decent debates to attack.

I know where I stand on the issue. But I am not going to force my beliefs on to anyone, and insist that my way is the right way. It might be for me. It might not be for you.

Some might do well to consider that.

Irony

We moved here because we thought it was safer for the cats.

Not so. For obvious reasons.

Before he was killed, Harvey used to fight with a local cat. Pretty little girl - all black with white feet. Both wanted to rule the neighbourhood.

Guess who we found today?

Harvey's nemesis. Killed on the same stretch of road.

What are the odds?

I bet they are still fighting now.

Upstairs, downstairs

Lila has a tendency to wander upstairs.

We'd prefer her not to, just so as the cats can have a safe santuary upstairs. Lila wants to be with them, but they don't always share that feeling. Sometimes, but not always.

So we got a baby gate for the stairs. I spent a good few minutes putting it up securely.

I turned around to go up the stairs and she was already at the top of them.

Maybe she was on the stairs before I closed it? I'm sure I had left her on the other side..........So I took her back down, firmly shut the gate again (with her on the other side) and went on my way.

Ten seconds later Little Missy was upstairs.

It turns out that she can squeeze through the bars. I've caught her playing with Ellie, barking at Willow (who doesn't mind but just talks back) and looking for the others. She knows their hiding places already.

She also likes to chew the Baron's socks under the watchful eye of a wise looking Orange Cat.

What she doesn't know is that her head is still growing. So in a week or so, the upstairs world will be but a dream to her.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

A Week

It's been a week. Just one week.

This time last week, we were out searching for our errant cat. It was snowing, but we hoped he was just being naughty and following us.

The Baron thought he saw a little white face peeking out from under a tree. I felt him nearby. We were wrong.

Harvey was several hundred metres away, by the side of the road.

But we were right. We are both sure that he found us that night to say goodbye.

I can't believe it has been a week.

What was I thinking?

Miss Puddleduck lives up to her name.

Puddles everywhere.

I am so used to cats - just show them the tray and all is well - that I had overlooked this bit.

D'oh!

When will it get better?

The day started off so well. I didn't cry when Harvey wasn't there to trip me up. I smiled when I saw the obvious pleasure Charlie gets from being the first to eat. Ellie spent five minutes twisting around my ankles and Willow sat on my lap whilst I got ready. Frankie followed me everywhere I went.

Then the post came. All of the cats micro-chip certificates had arrived. Including Harvey's.

Fat lot of good that will do him.

I remember when I took him to have it done. I was holding him - it is one big fuck off needle they use - and he cried out. I held him whilst the vet finished all the paperwork. We hadn't moved yet, but to save the change of address fee we put down my new address. I joked that I'd better not lose him or he'd get there before we would!

He was micro-chipped. He had his vaccinations. He was wormed and de-flea'd. I treated his weak eye whenever it got inflamed and sore. I took care of his teeth. But none of it was enough.

I love all of my pets but I can feel myself pulling away from them. I cannot go through this with each of them.

All change

Harvey is gone. The house just doesn't feel the same without that little bugger and the way he ruled us all with a furry paw. I miss him so much it still hurts. I am having trouble eating and sleeping, and my concentration is shot to buggery.

Frankie does nothing but sit on the windowsill, looking down on Harvey's grave and crying. Charlie sits with him, and grooms his face. Harvey used to groom Frankie's face.

Ellie and Willow sit in the spare bedroom together, and Hollie comes out in the evening to check on me.

But things must move on.

We had arranged to pick up Lila on Saturday, before Harvey carried out his badly thought out attack on a moving car.

But we decided to bring that forward. Partly because the cats are so stressed anyway and partly as a distraction.

So, without further ado, I present to you:

Miss Lila!

Lila

The End

Harvey went missing on Sunday. The last I saw of him was him gleefully climbing the fence to look at the birds at next door's birdtable.

We called him intermittently all afternoon. As it grew closer to dusk, we went out and checked all around the neighbourhood.

All through the night we went out looking for him. He'd never been out after dark. It was cold and snowing, and he hated the cold. He wouldn't go outside if it was cold.

Even then I knew that something was wrong. He would have come if he could have.

I went to bed in the early hours. The Baron continued to search. At five, I felt a cat land on me. My heart soared - Harvey was home!

But it wasn't Harvey. It was Charlie taking over Harvey's job of waking me.I counted the minutes until the sun rose. Then I walked around the neighbourhood again, in my dressing gown. In the snow. The neighbours were surprised!

I had to leave for work. The Baron carried out on looking. He made a poster for us to put up.

Work was awful - I couldn't concentrate. I came home as soon as I could, and sped down the motorway.

We set off around the neighbourhood with our posters, torches and cat treats. Nothing like his favourite biscuit to lure him home.

It was so cold, it was difficult to push the tacks in to hold up the posters. We plastered the village from one end to the other. We put a few up outside the school, knowing that the children would want to help by checking garages and sheds.

We came home and waited. It didn't take long.My phone rang. It was a woman asking if I had put up the posters. I could feel hope spreading through me as she spoke. Then the two words.

"Bad news"

That was it. All over.

She came over to tell me in person.Harvey had been found on Sunday evening after a church meeting. He had been hit by a car on the sharp corner that brings you into our village. There wasn't a mark on him.

He was already cold, and there was nothing that could be done. They took his body out of the road and wrapped him up, so as not to upset the children the next morning on the way to school.They put notes through the houses nearest to explain, since Harvey would not wear a collar. Kept chewing them off.

The next day she saw us putting up our posters. And she knew who to call.

I collected his body and brought him home. The Baron didn't want to see his body, but I had to. I cuddled him whilst the Baron dug him a grave in the garden. The others came and sniffed him.

I didn't want to put him down again. He started to warm in my arms, and I could feel that his back had been broken. His end had come quickly. Too fucking quickly - he was two and a half.

The Baron left me to bury Harvey - he couldn't do it. I cuddled him and placed him in his grave. I threw the earth over his face first and I thought my heart would break. To see my baby, so full of life and mischief, lying in a hole in the fucking ground, still, cold and lifeless, was too much.I shut my eyes as I finished covering him.

I couldn't bear to see any part of him there. He didn't belong there, he belonged on my bed cuddling his brother.

And that was that.

We have marked his resting spot with some beautiful stones. White with black speckles, just like him. The Baron has made him a little headstone, and I have put my favourite cat ornament on his grave.Harvey is the first thing I see when I open my curtains in the morning.

I just can't believe that he is out there and not here with us. I can't believe that he is gone.

Harvey Cat. My first, my best, my soul cat.

Harvey

Harvey

My Baby Bat Ears

Harvey didn't feel the cold last night.

He sleeps in the garden next to his favourite tree, under the eyes of those who loved him best.

Harvey, my little furry angel, I will miss you forever.

Still

Still snowing.

Still cold.

Still the Baron is in pain.

Still no cat in sight.

As if things couldn't get any worse....

The Baron is in a lot of pain, and can barely turn his head, let alone walk. I just fused all the lights upstairs. And to top things off........

Harvey is missing. It is snowing and it is dark.

I hate this miserable fucking weekend.

Extremely close call

The Baron was knocked down by a speeding fork lift truck at work at lunchtime yesterday.

He was thrown a good fifteen feet through the air when it hit him (at about thirty miles an hour) and landed on his side, by the side of the truck where it finally had come to a stop.

He was knocked out on impact.

When he finally came to, he was taken, not to hospital as one might expect, but up to the first aid room to sign various pieces of paperwork. After an hour and a half they finally took him to hospital, which is where I was called from.

After lots of tests, X-rays and observation he was released late night. He has whiplash, scrapes from the forks, mild concussion, and severe bruising around his bones on the right side (which took the impact). He is understandably very sore, and is having a lot of trouble getting around.

He has been signed off indefinitely to heal. The leniency (trust me, this is leniency as opposed to common decency) comes from the fact it was the worst accident to date at the warehouse (and was also witnessed by a large number of staff) and that the driver of the fork lift truck was on his final warning for speeding.

Guess what he is most pissed off about?

The fact he has nary a scrape on his body! There are a couple of scrapes on his back, and that is it.

The doctor said that he must be made of steel to have walked away with so few injuries. It's true. He's never broken a bone in his body, so why start now when you get knocked over?

Very scary few hours.

Apologies for the drama. I wasn't given any information over the phone other than the name of the hospital and the fact that he had been knocked down, and of course I immediately assumed the worst.

Quickie...

I'm on my way to the hospital.

The Baron has been knocked down.

Nerd Alert!

Piss

I've been messing around trying to finish my new template.

So far so good.

But do you think I can import my posts here over there? Course not. It might help things along if I knew what a FTP was, let alone how to save my posts and then import them from that.

But I don't have a scooby.

I am reasonably intelligent. Sort of. Maybe.

So why can't I do a simple fucking import without someone to hold my hand?

If anyone wants to hold my hand, they can. I have ice cream.

Just because it so sweet.

Poseur!!

The Baron at Buckingham Palace.

Do you like my new mattress?

We honestly did not stage this this one!

Just relaxing.......

Three little cats........

Remember my sweet little kitten and her surrogate Mum in the form of a neutered and quite dopey Frankie?

Me and my holiday cat.

The horror!!!

Happy at last. We won the stuffed Hagrid's - after spending about 20 Euro's and winning all manner of other toys!

Pool tart.

Me and my Spideys.

Getting very cross

Now Blogger is refusing to show posts shown as published. As well as not updating the profile page, eating posts for breakfast and not always even opening.

My new template is nearly ready.

Change is in the air.............

Oh and......

....9 days to my dog!

The water is now very safe.....

.........as I have just flushed my contraceptive pills away as promised.

Ok, I haven't really. The environment is fucked up enough as it is.

But guess who is the first to know my cousin and his girlfriend are expected their second child?

Completely unrelated, but is anyone else finding blogger to be a pain in the arse of late? I am toying with the idea of moving to Typepad, but of course then I have to pay.

10 days to go....

.....until I have a dog.

A dog.

Me. With six cats. Going to have a dog.

I'm getting a wee bit nervous.

Will she eat the cats?
Will Harvey not so surgically remove her nose?
Will she eat the walls like her cousin Samson did?
Will the cats ever forgive me?
Will my bank balance ever recover?

But.........

I am also getting really excited. My very own dog.

Puppy puppy puppy!!!!!!

Unresolved

Firstly, I would like to say that I am pissed as a fart again. I just met up with some old school friends, who I haven't seen in eight years, and we had a really good time. We are going to meet up for a meal next week.

Naturally, one is pregnant (as is every single female I know of my age in real life barring my sister). So now I know two unpregnant women.

I feel so much better. End sarcasm.

The Baron is still somewhat shag-shy now that I am contraception free. Obviously, this isn't an area that he can be tricked into/forced into, but it deeply pisses me off. He has a slightly long record of saying things and then not following through (usually out of laziness) so this wasn't unexpected. I confess to be disappointed.

But I will ride it out.

Cecily kindly answered my question on declawing cats and animal rights.

I admit that I don't understand it and I don't think I will. It is partly cultural, as in we just don't do it here in the UK. Cats come with claws and that is just how it goes.

I'm not sure I would have it any other way. Apart from the fact I feel it is mutiliation, my cats just wouldn't be the same without their claws. My breasts would, since they like bare flesh, but with a toss up between intact skin and feeling their happy feet waking me up in the morning, I know what I would choose every time.

I do believe that if you want intact furniture to the point you would remove the top joint of a creatures toes, then you have no business owning said pet. That is my opinion. Of course, it doesn't necessarily make these people bad owners at all, but I simply disagree with their actions.

I would rather see cats declawed than put down for lack of a home. I really would, and I speak as someone with three rescue cats. But I stil believe that at the end of the day that cats deserve their claws.

And I am off to bed to sleep off an obscene number of double Bacardi's and Coke. Work tomorrow. Good night.

Mr Fickle

The Baron and I had a talk on New Year's Eve. A biggie.

We came to the decision that we would abstain from abstaining any longer and just see what happened. Whilst it wasn't a "let's get trying NOW" result, it was an improvement on the "so what does you chart say today? Can we shag?" conversations held in bed. Real mood killer, that.

He of course wants to be relieved whilst we are waiting for the danger to pass, and so wants my help. In fairness, he will reciprocate, but not with the good stuff. Unless I fancy some rubber action, which I most certainly do not.

So all well and good. I at least have the chance to hope, and we both get some loving out of it.

Fast forward to now. Day 7. Still (based on my cycles) far too early to start picking out names.

And the fucker has changed his mind. No loving in the DMouse House.

Not so

Going back to work was not peaceful. Or restful. I think I need another holiday already.

And an extremely heavy frying pan.

I woke up to the Litter Tray From Hell. I probably don't need to elaborate.

So I cleaned it. Whilst I got their breakfast ready, the little bastards proceeded to refill the tray. How, I don't know, since it looked like all six had already shat out their entire body weight, but clearly they had saved some back just for me.

So I cleaned it again.

Then discovered the Baron had eaten most of the contents of the fridge and left the rubbish in out in the living room. With a forced smile on my face (determined to start the day off properly) I cleaned that up.

After that came sandwich making time. This would have gone better if the Baron had not left the bread open, as personally, I prefer not to have stale bread. Took a handful of fruit instead.

I finally left. And got stuck in a major traffic jam, caused by a melting warehouse. One and a half hours to travel three and a half miles.

I arrived, busting for the toilet.

That is when I found out the lift weren't working and I had to drag my arse up three flights of stairs. With my laptop and file bag. With no lights working on the stairwell.

I got to the top, thinking I would nip to the toilet before going in.

No such luck, as someone has put a fucking keypad on the toilet door, and I have no idea what the code is.

So I go in. Drop my stuff, get that damn code and run to the toilet.

Several meetings later (where no-one knows anything) I am left alone. With nothing to do, as people are assembling the paperwork I requested (requested several times over the past month).

And then it is time to go home.

Sat on the other side of the traffic jam. Get somewhat desperate for the toilet (my bladder is beyond pathetic)

The Baron stole my parking space so I had to drive out again to find one. Walked home in the rain. Couldn't see the keyhole as the arsehole hadn't turned the outside light on. Nearly broke my neck tripping over the post that he didn't pick up.

Cleaned the litter tray again. Fed the monsters, who are clearly starving to death and must therefore cry piteously whilst I spend all of ten seconds getting their food out of the cupboard.

And the clincher?

"What's wrong with you? You seem in a bad mood"

I'm going to fucking kill someone.

My Plan

First things first.

Puppy! Meeting Lila was great. All the puppies were full of mischief and spent the visit trying to eat my jumper. They all look like little bears and I can't wait to bring her home. The cats probably could wait a lifetime for that.

Back to my Plan.

I go back to work tomorrow. I took some extra holiday so that I could get things done around the house after the holidays. My Plan was:

Paint the spare room - done.

Clean the house (top to bottom) - done.

Get up to date with the washing and keep it that way - done.

Make a list of all the food/bathroom/household supplies we have - done.

Sort out our filing system (monster task) - done.

Sort out a music practice schedule - done and started.

Create an exercise schedule - done but not started. Still getting rid of this cold.

Note down all of my books - done. That took forever!

Sort out my freezer - done.

Deal with all my work files - done.

Sort out my home office supplies - done. And I hoard this stuff so there was a lot.

Clear my To Do file of paperwork - all bills paid. The Baron's speeding ticket dealt with.

Register the cat's micro-chips - finally done. Thankfully I didn't lose any.

Set up my 2005 calendar - done.

Spend some time with the Boy - done lots of that.

Tidy and re-organise the cupboard under the stairs.

Watch Jerry Springer - the Opera - done. It was v funny, and I have some great new insults.

I suspect going back to work will be a nice rest.

Lila

We are going to visit her tomorrow. In three weeks time, we get to bring her home!

Doggy

Fucking sick

I am trying so hard to restrain myself on this.....

http://democracyforvirginia.typepad.com/democracyforvirginia/2005/01/legislativesen.html

What the fuck is wrong with this wankstain? Land of the free, my fucking arse.

Clearly this man has never had a partner who has lost a pregnancy. I'd be surprised if he has even had sex.

One good thing...

.. about this cold is that my jeans are now too big for me.

I like.

Hot cold hot cold hot cold

One minute I am cold, the next I am roasting alive in my own skin. Then just as I remove the last piece of clothing I can remove without flashing my wares to the world, I am plunged back into the icy depths. And so the cycle continues.

The Baron claims he is dying from a cold. He is currently dying on the sofa downstairs. Alone. I do not feel particularly sympathetic to his impending doom since I had to pick up the manky tissues he had strewn around the computer.

I'm also fairly sure that dying people do not eat two big bowls of lemon chicken soup, a packet of crisps and four peanut butter sandwiches whilst watching Star Wars. Just my gut feeling.

Cold begone!

Abnormal

I had a phone call last night from the Boy. No singing this time.

Boy: Hello Auntie, I am abnormal.

Auntie: I know that. Who told you?

Boy: The thermometer. I have a temperature of 89 and Daddy says I am dead.

Auntie: That's nice. Does your body know that?

Boy: I'm not dead (amidst lots of wailing), I'm abnormal. Mummy said so.

Auntie: Okkaaaaayyyyyyyy. But I don't think Mummy meant your temperature.

Boy: Nanny took it and it was........

Lots of whispers in the background

Boy: 98 and 60.

Auntie: But that is completely normal. Not freakish. Not dead.

Boy: So I am not abnormal?

Auntie: Yes you are, but that is nothing to do with your temperature. Go bug somebody else.

Boy: OK. Bye Auntie!

Hungover

Last night wasn't too bad at all. The fucktard didn't bother to show up. Quelle domage.

Those who did are our oldest friends, and we had a great night. Lots of drinking, eating, and chatting. Plus they all love cats, so we didn't have to keep them upstairs.

So I am somewhat hungover this morning, and I have the post party debris still to clear away downstairs. Our guests offered to help, but we decided it would simply be easier to leave it until morning.

Here's to a great 20o05!

New Year's Bloody Eve

The Baron decided he wanted a party in our new house.

So yesterday he invited a few people over. And then he told me about it.

I sighed, and mentally started planning. Drinks, food, kitty hidey holes, and cleaning.

Then he announced that he invited his fucktard brother over, and his wife.

Fucking great. Just the morons I want to welcome 2005 in with.

He went to work, I prepared for the party.

And tonight he announced that it is very likely that his fucktard brother will be staying over.

Wish me luck. I am going to need it to avoid starting New Year in prison.

Happy 2005, folks!

Cat-astrophe's

Frankie has been avoiding the pond like the plague and I can't say that I blame him. Charlie tried to push him in earlier, which sent Frankie running for the safety of my bed.

Hollie appears to have the plague, and is wandering around the house vomiting.

Willow has spent the day at war with her tail.

Harvey lived up to his reputation as Guard Cat and completely intimidated our visitor. He got him into the corner and growled menacingly. Once Harvey decided the threat had passed (in fairness to the cat, our visitor was an ex-Para, albeit a very small one) he allowed him to sit down, but kept him under control with a ferocious stare. Said visitor didn't stay too long.

Ellie has been Ellie. So she has eaten part of her favourite plant, chewed my book case, knocked down the candles and snorted a lot.

Charlie tried to push Frankie in the pond. He seems to have developed a very mischievous streak of late, culminating in him absconding at lunchtime with my iPod so that he could chew through my one and only pair of ear plugs.

So nothing too unusual here.

Back to normal

Things are indeed back to normal.

The tree and decorations are down. The turkey is gone - into bellies (human, feline and canine), stock and into the freezer.

My conservatory is once again a workshop. The Darth Vader water feature will soon be joined by a Boba Fett water feature. Stylish, or what?

The cats are scooting around the house like mad things. They haven't been out too much of late due to the weather, since they hate the cold, and due to the need to guard the turkey. But they are back in fine and demented form.

So as I say, it has been really cold. Today the pond froze over. I let the cats out this morning, and waited the obligatory five seconds before they realised that in fact, it was below freezing and a better course of action would be to reverse and go to sleep under my quilt.

Except Harvey saw the pond. And had to investigate............

So two minutes later Harvey was sat in the middle of the frozen pond, looking very very pleased with himself. Frankie and Ellie were fascinated (from the safety and warmth of the woolly blanket on the sofa and were watchng with huge eyes.

Harvey got up and walked around, in the middle of the pond. He realised the fish were still swimming under the ice. So he started to tap the ice with his paw.

It held. He continued to watch the fish.

Frankie could no longer contain himself and had to see how Harvey was performing this miracle of standing on the ice. He saw Harvey sit down on the ice. He then saw the fish under the ice that Harvey was sitting on.

And so he pounced.

At Harvey.

On the ice.

Harvey's eyes grew big. And he launched himself a clear six feet up in the air when he saw the black monstrosity flying towards him at full speed. He landed with grace next to the pond and ran for safety.

Frankie crashed into the ice. And then immediately crashed straight through the ice and into the frosty depths below. The fish scattered. Birds scattered.

He emerged several seconds later looking extremely shocked. He jumped out of the pond, and without a backwards glance flew into the house and hid.

Six hours later, he still looks shocked.

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas!!!!

I have my hat on, the presents are opened (the Baron's parents gave him nose hair trimmers!) and the turkey is cooked.

Nothing else is, but never mind.

It is five minutes to the Queen's speech

My parents are here, and I am as pissed as a fucking fart.

So Merry Christmas!!!!!

My head is swimming

The Boy is staying overnight, to test the sofa bed out. In return, he is going to help with the preparations for the big lunch.

He is the next room talking to himself. It is 11PM and I have had enough of trying to get him to go to sleep, so he is just amusing himself.

All day I have answered a never ending stream of questions:

"Auntie, do you think I should keep my squidgy bum? Girls like squidgy bums, don't they?"

"Auntie, are there reindeer in the field (behind the house)? Can we catch one?"

"Auntie, you know that Trojan horse thing? How did they get in it?"

"Auntie, did you know my mummy is your half twin because you are sisters with different birthdays?"

Interspersed with conversations on Greek mythology, science, Harry Potter, mobile phones, religion, cake, and litter tray habits.

Is it any wonder my head is spinning?

The muttering from next door has stopped. I am hoping he is asleep now, as I would quite like to go to bed myself without any surprise visits from small blonde boys.

Harvey is standing guard outside his door. Harvey loathes him, so this isn't for the Boy's protection. It is to make sure the little bugger doesn't come out again.

I love my cat.

NTQ

Dear Right Ovary,

Please ovulate NOW. You are killing me.

In eager anticipation,

Rest of Body

3

I really would prefer the slow orgasmic death, but since no-one else has opted for that route yet.....

Three names you go by: Sarah, Pen, and Mouse.

Three screennames you have: dmouse007, penfold007, and themadcatlady.

Three things you like about yourself: eyes, my ability to talk to absolutely anyone and my love of animals.

Three things you hate/dislike about yourself: my weight, my inability to dye my hair to to the colour I intended and the fact I cannot stop my nails from breaking off.

Three parts of your heritage: Norman, Russian and Polish.

Three things that scare you: the current US administration, guns and snakes.

Three of your everyday essentials: mobile phone, Grinders and a bottle of water.

Three things you are wearing right now: glasses, catfur covered jumper and battered old jeans.

Three of your favorite bands/artists at the moment: Stone Temple Pilots, Red Hot Chili Peppers and Incubus.

Three of your favorite songs at present: Band Aid Feed the World, By the Way and The Reason.

Three things you want to try in the next 12 months: sticking to the speed limit, successful gardening and volunteering for cat rescue.

Three things you want in a relationship (love is a given): fun, trust and damn good sex.

Two truths and a lie: I can pick up any music instrument and play it (although not necessarily that well). My nose is pierced. I like the Baron's brother.

Three physical things about the opposite (or same) sex that appeals to you: Hands, eyes and height.

Three things you just can't do: Draw, cook well done steak and eat cheese.

Three of your favorite hobbies: Reading, cat stuff and learning my bass guitar.

Three things you want to do really badly right now: Piss, have a cup of tea and a brownie.

Three careers you're considering: My current career is more than enough.

Three places you want to go on vacation: Fiji, Iceland and South Africa.

Three kids names: Lily, Charlie and Alfie.

Three things you want to do before you die: Drive a race car, travel to the moon and see my hundredth birthday

Three people who have to take this quiz now or die a slow orgasmic death: Amy (although I think she'd definitely prefer the slow orgasmic death), Shelly and Stacey.

Procrastinating

So far today I have:

roasted a chicken;

started making some soup;

thought about writing a report;

given Charlie a very extensive haircut;

been bitten several times (see above);

done the washing;

thought some more about writing a report;

cleaned the kitchen;

played Spider Solitaire;

de-cat-furred the house;

got my laptop out in preparation for report writing;

baked brownies;

cleaned the bathroom;

thought a little more about writing a report;

chased Harvey around the neighbourhood;

played my guitar; and

given myself a manicure and a pedicure.

Bet you can't guess what I am putting off here!

Darth Take Two

Again, not brilliant, but you get the gist.

Fairly unique, I'd say!

Marching onwards

Sunday, February 20, 2005

Fanfare please!

Friday, February 18, 2005

Older than me!

Thursday, February 17, 2005

Stock-take

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Older and wiser?

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Charlie's adoptaversary

Monday, February 14, 2005

Biscuits

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Lila

Ozzy

Ellie

Willow

Charlie

Hollie

Frankie

Saturday, February 12, 2005

Loose ends

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Cheery

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Bloody subconscious

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Has it only been....

Sunday, February 06, 2005

Pooped

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

The water

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Irony

Upstairs, downstairs

Sunday, January 30, 2005

A Week

Saturday, January 29, 2005

What was I thinking?

Friday, January 28, 2005

When will it get better?

Thursday, January 27, 2005

All change

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

The End

Monday, January 24, 2005

Harvey

Still

Sunday, January 23, 2005

As if things couldn't get any worse....

Extremely close call

Saturday, January 22, 2005

Quickie...

Friday, January 21, 2005

Nerd Alert!

Piss

Getting very cross

Thursday, January 20, 2005

Oh and......

The water is now very safe.....

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

10 days to go....

Unresolved

Friday, January 14, 2005

Mr Fickle

Monday, January 10, 2005

Not so

Sunday, January 09, 2005

My Plan

Friday, January 07, 2005

Lila

Fucking sick

Thursday, January 06, 2005

One good thing...

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Hot cold hot cold hot cold

Monday, January 03, 2005

Abnormal

Saturday, January 01, 2005