Pet Lover's Blindness!

Keeping a pet lessens stress . . . of course it does – proven fact.

So why am I standing here cleaning up a cat poo with enough electric stress to level even a Buddhist monk. Yup cat poo on the floor – which of course I trod in - is not something to relax and calm you. Not just any old cat poo though – poo that has to be checked for fur balls to make sure the medication is working! Hoh yes gloves on dive in and investigate in minute detail . . . .eeeeuuuuuuwwwwww. Stress level meter on the up!

So of course the simple thing of taking the cat to the vet for excess dribbling . . . the cat, not the vet . . . although maybe the vet is a closet dribbler . . . turned into the cat – Bootsie (Boo) – needing his teeth 'done'. Grind own teeth lightly. Plus Boo was walking a bit hunched so he needed a blood test to check kidneys . . . and if they were ok, he could have Metacam for arthritis. . . . mmmm – grind teeth harder and furrow brow.


So Bootsie was duly taken in – knocked out- and his teeth were de-scaled. End of story – of course berludy not. Poor old Boo had a lot of inflammation on the right hand side of his mouth . . . could be just with the contact with the plaque (light at end of tunnel) – could be a tumour . . . gulp – (oncoming train.) Grind teeth to powder and add in chewed cheeks.

'Here's the bill bring him back in a week . . .oh and give him these antibiotic pills – they taste foul, but keeping them in the fridge helps . . . !

'Er thanks . . . have you read my post on pills and cats . . . thought not.'

'And his kidneys are fine – here is your Metacam . . . '

'Nooooo . . . . '

'It's drops in food . . .'

'Yesssss.'

Bootsie stopped dribbling . . .hooray – and breathe . . . and then he started being sick . . .noooooooo . . . . . tense up and work on sick feeling in pit of stomach. Boo also started to yell for food more and to burp loads . . . sigh . . . heart in dry mouth. I took him off the Metacam . . . my guess it was irritating his stomach a lot – given the amount of burping and yowling. . . .him and me. Tense feeling in solar Plexus.

I also thought Boo was horribly constipated until I discovered that our Collie - Sassy was hoovering the cat poo out of the litter tray . . . eeeeeek. Note to self keep an eye on dog for sickness . . . and . . . tense a little bit/a lot more.

The burping stopped . . .sigh . . . but Boo continued to be sick and his appetite dropped through the floor – so did his weight . . . so did mine . . .


Another visit to the vets . . . hah they were unable to get a look in poor Boo's mouth so he had to be knocked out . . . mutters about cats and pills. . . whilst brewing a headache. . .

The inflammation was less apparently. Boo was given a long acting antibiotic injection . . . TWO WEEKS it lasts TWO WEEKS . . . and where was this injection last week. . . and something to help bind the fur in his stomach – paste in a tube - palatable . . . twice a day for a week . . .then he can expel the hair balls up . . . or down. . . erk . . fight nausea!

Berlimey HOW MUCH . . .hand over credit card . . . massage tense neck, take pills for headache and rescue mangled tongue from between teeth. Own tongue of course – important note - never kiss someone at the vets when handing over credit card. Especially not the vet!!!!! Never the vet . . . he dribbles you know!

And Boo appeared to get better. He stopped being sick and started eating again . . . and breathe . . .

Then he was sick again . . . twice – raise shoulders to ears . . .higher . . .and hold.

But he has been better the last couple of days and then . . . dawn the day of the hairy poo . . . very hairy, very smelly . . . very treadable poo . . .hooray . . .he has passed the hair – it is the little things that make you happy . . . but don't relax . . .oooooo nooooo not just yet . . . there are two dogs and fish and sheep and a million things to go wrong with them, to them, to me . . . no time to relax . . . any minute now . . .and . . and . . and . . . wait for it . . YES . . .we are off . . Sassy has weed in HS's study . . .WHY . . .and WHY . . . and WHY – high blood pressure, spots in front of eyes . . . Pee In HS study . . . carpet, anger, instant grief. Pee in my office, wooden floor, forgiveness, no rows . . . no chest pain . . .

Owning pets is relaxing? Show me the petless idiot that said that and I'll show them the hell that is pet owning and the depleted bank balance and the sleepless nights . . . and the endless, endless, endless STRESS . . . . . and . . . . oh listen Boo is purring . . .aw bless . . . Such big loving eyes . . .Yes I love oooo tooo Bootsie Boo – who a cutsie wutsie liddle boy then . . . sheer contentment . . . . . dreamy sigh . . I wouldn't be without a pet you know – they are just sooooo relaxing . . . All is well . . .pet lover's blindness.

A surprise vist and imminent parental worries

Yup I think my face has almost stopped burning . . . bit concious of my laugh though . . . and wary of my mobile phone . . . berludy thing.

So the berludy thing rang. . . Saturday night – looking forward to a quiet night in, good food (HS doing the cooking) a not too horrible bottle of wine (bargain from Sainsbury's).

'Hi Mum . . . are you in?' (Wildchild)

Pause . .

'Yes!'

'Can I come up and have a shower!'

'Spose!'

Evening out of the window . . . or door – why does it always have to be a window . . .couldn't it go up the chimney.

But you guessed it both HS and I were delighted . . . the evening and the chimney already forgotten.

Wildchild, having passed her end of year three exams with flying colours, was on a field trip (part of next years Honours Course) and staying at a nearby Outdoor Centre. She and those in her group had spend the day catching and ringing birds. The Outdoor Centre is excellent, but no frills. Wildchild and three friends arrived looking for home comforts, warmth and a hot shower.

The house filled with excited young chatter as everyone fussed over the dogs, the cat, met Cyd and failed to see him scoop up his 'Taste the Difference' pieces of Sainsbury's Salmon. Towels were produced . . . showers had. Raincoats and walking gators lent. Hair washed and straightened. Childhoods remembered . . . In the space of ten minutes Wildchild managed to leave towels, drier, straighteners and tissues all over the bedroom . . . the explosion of her presence was small . . . time constraints, she can do better. . . oh so much better . . .

Glad to know that as parents we still have something to offer our children . . . a hot shower, a washing machine, food . . . unconditional love, all in a heatbeat. Wildchild even hugged me in front of her friends . . . so getting over the embarrassing mother bit then – that's no berludy good . . . I must try harder.

Wildchild will be close by until Wednesday then she goes back to Dundee for a couple of days before flying out to Trinidad . . .gulp . . .Yes Trinidad. Bye bye Wildchild, hello instant worry . . .Trinidad . . still can't get to grips with this – Trinidad for six weeks – part of her Uni course – she will be studying endangered parrots. . . gawd . . . she and her friends chattered confidently about the dangers of the snakes and spiders . . . eeeek all too real . . .no malaria though . . .phew . . . just yellow fever . . .cerikey . . . and insects . . . they are all taking Jungle Formula with Deet . . . BERLIMEY . . .and working ten hours a day . . . speechless . . .

But wow what an amazing experience for her . . . She will be away on her 21st Birthday . . . yes HS and I are sad she won't be here, but no doubt she will be spoiled rotten by her friends and how many people get to say they celebrated their 21st Birthday in Trinidad. HS and I managed to sneak a Catherine Tate talking (am I bothered it's your 21st Birthday) card and a badly wrapped in Xmas paper packet of Haribo sweets to one of Wildchild's friends, another Trinidad traveller. Hope they bring a smile to Wildchild's face and happy thoughts of us on her birthday.

And yes KittyB – this was the packet of Haribos you sent to me as part of a swap. Every expense spared!

HS and I are planning a surprise to meet Wildchild at Gatwick when she returns . . . schhhhhhhh . . .don't know if it will happen yet.

So here we are full of pride and holding back the tears . . . sob . . . .

PLUS . . .Robot Boy finished his exams on Thursday (he is quietly confident he has got through ok). . . and moved in with his lovely girlfriend on the Friday (yes HS and I like her . . phew). RB is staying in Scotland so won't have to long distance worry about him . . .just the usual worry then . . . WHERE, oh where did the time go . . . checks chimney . . . settles down with photographs, nostalgia, no Haribos and a berludy big box of tissues . . . sigh . . .

Nothing is as it seems

Nothing is as it seems. A couple of weeks ago I watched a film starring Colin Farrell and Al Pacino . . . it was a spy thriller and the message throughout the film – was - nothing is as it seems. Interesting film lots of twists and turns, but nothing to do with this blog.

Ever been in the situation where someone's phone has phoned yours. They are unaware of the connection, but you can hear everything that is going on the other end. Oh yes. . . .nothing good comes of eaves dropping, even if it is not your fault – you can see where this is going can't you. It is the little things that catch you out.

There was a voice message on my mobile phone – it was a few days old – somehow I had missed it. I dialled my voice messages and idly listened. There was a lot of blurred and distorted noise, bored I almost hung up . . . and then a man spoke. I recognised the voice it was HS. His phone must have been in his pocket and dialled mine at some point . . he said something – I couldn't hear what . . . vaguely interested I listened on and then SHE laughed . . Berludy berludy hell . . .WHAT . . . there was some slut with a REALLY and I mean REALLY dirty laugh, laughing at something MY husband had just said . . . and it went on and on . . . Who the fugger and buck was she trying to impress – well that was obvious . . . and that filthy laugh . . . SNARL And . . . he was clearly enjoying her attention . . berludy berludy hell.

And so with a severe case of wobbly spaghetti fingers and blazing green eyes, not forgetting the abrupt companionship of the red dog of anger snapping none too playfully at my heals I vengefully checked the diary against the date of the phone message . . . no fool me . . . I would have the truth and the identity of miss slutty laugh in no time.

Yup there it was – the day we had moved Wildchild to her new flat . . . . Hah yer barsteward, think I don't know what is going on. . . gottcha . . .

And the slutty bitch with the dirty laugh who was clearly entertaining MY husband with more than the desired effect. . . Yup I knew exactly who SHE was now . . . NOTHING gets passed me . . . yup that wicked slutty bitch with the REALLY dirty laugh . . . . . . . . that would be me . . . . runs away . . .face burning.

Nothing is what it seems.