Nutty times in Cambridge

This reminds me a little of a snow flake, or frost on a window. I look forward to it, even though Summer is so full of colour and creatures. I have been reminded lately of another summer inconvenience: cats shed like mad. Everywhere I look, these days, I find bits of Lucy.

That’s Lucy and Lily vying for the same basket, before Lily gave up being my cat and decided to adopt Grant.

They are little buggers, these cats.

If they perceive that a basket or a bed or a blanket, you name it, belongs to another cat, they will immediately decide to seize possession the minute that cat vacates for a moment.

The nightly fiasco in my bedroom continues.

It was so peaceful and lovely for 5 nights when Willow had her special box on my bed. She loved it, and I defended it for her, to the disgust in particular of Lucy, who was much affronted. “Sorry, darling, it’s Willow’s box.”

“WHAT?”

Then one night, Willow jumped into her box and promptly jumped back out. It may have been the ill-timed thunderclap that startled her, but that was the end of that box.

All taken out on the sweet, innocent Patches.

Willow would choose a perch and settle but as soon as the light went out, I could time it…3,2,1…thud….Willow would be on the floor and tormenting Patches.

My wicked child was offered the above box, on my dresser and rather huffily accepted it. “Better than nothing, I suppose”, she seemed to say.

Not that it put a stop to her horrible behaviour.

So, last night, I put the box on my bed to see if she would like that better.

Turned my head for a nano second and Blackie was in it….

..looking very smug. She had been sitting quite contentedly, in her pre-lights-out bed.

Willow sat, box-less, on my dresser.

I was all done with the box game, so I put my light out and as usual, Blackie came to insert herself next to me.

3,2,1…thud.

Light back on. Put box on dresser. Willow got in.

Lights back out. I think my recent explosion, when I read my guys the riot act, made a small impression, so they all settled. It was me who couldn’t.

This morning, as I was poking about, cleaning this and that, Grant asked if there was something he could do. “Remove that chair!” I declared, pointing. It wasn’t the chair that was offending me, especially, but the fact that it had yet another cat bed on it, and that corner of the room suddenly looked to me unacceptable. “One can’t move in this place!”

The result of which was a total re-arrangement of the room (not my idea) and that involved washing chair covers.

Remember my cranky washing machine “Hal”? Blasted thing. All day long: Beep beep beep….Beep beep beep. I wouldn’t mind if it did the job it’s supposed to but, just like the cats, it’s temperamental.

Too much stuff…noop. Not enough stuff…noop. Beep beep beep.

On “insufficient rest”, as we used to call it at work (for which there was a premium payment), all this furniture moving, and beeping got under my skin.

But at least it’s raining, so I don’t have to water the garden.

Ms Willow surveyed the re-arranged furniture with interest.

“But you didn’t ask us!”

No. We didn’t! I watched her carefully.

Sometimes, she has a way of expressing her disapproval.

Tonight she will find the ejected box, on offer, on my bed.

And she can take it or leave it!

Tough times for the Cambridge Cats.

Although Penny got to keep her box.

We have a groundhog that has discovered peanuts. It’s a scramble now to see who will get them first.

What a zoo.

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