Animals – you gotta love ’em.
After their breakfast this morning I took The Girls for their walk down the lane to do their thing, and exercise their olfactory senses, at least. Their delight was manifest in every squirming fibre of their being and we were enjoying a companionable time together, when I heard the strangulated vowels of an unhappy cat.
There was Princess Podi, standing at the open gate, yawling as though we’d taken off for Outer Mongolia. Even The Girls looked up, momentarily, from their ecstatic snuffling. I called and spoke to her, of course, and she came bounding down the lane after us, but stopped at the letterbox, four feet drawn together at attention, body arched in a bow, and began voweling again. No amount of coaxing her to join us on our walk would convince her to venture beyond the letterbox, but as long as she could see us, and hear my voice, she did subside a little, sitting within her tail, at the foot of the tree, shielded from view by said letterbox.
Apparently she was unhappy about running into the neighbour’s cow, grazing on the bright monsoon-fed grass growing on the side of the road.
You would be forgiven for thinking things were on the up and up here since my Six Sixes on a Friday meltdown back at the beginning of May. And indeed they are.
Maid’s gone, room emptied, left debt. Ads placed, feelers out, high hopes.
Dog’s been sick, washing machine broken. Vet says Girls OK, machine fixed.
Car’s with the mechanic, need wheels. Awaiting parts, sitting idle, growing mould.
Calling for help useless, phone’s fried. Phone’s fixed, the world’s within reach.
And what seemed like the last straw at the time:
Camera full of images, can’t download. Just a faulty cable, et voila!
I won’t show you a photograph of the mould hanging off the steering wheel like moss in the enchanted forest – gross! But look at what’s happening at the Gene Pool today: