Dusty was very much off it last night. Not himself at all. This morning however he is full of spark again. Turns out that he is as much of a dairy fiend as his predecessor Treacle was. I had much difficulty in eating my yogurt unaided this morning.
Having decided last night that Cat would be needing a passport if she can be persuaded to travel with us, we were up and at ’em early today. The plan was to have Cat at the vets at opening time (8:30).
The normal morning routine is that Mr L gets up to take Nell up the Chemin at around 7am. He feeds Dusty and Cat is waiting at the back door to be fed, so he feeds her too. By the time that he returns she has finished her breakfast and goes over the road to meet them. This morning he thought that by not feeding her, she would hang around and be there at the appropriate time for boxing.
He showered and dressed and went to get her. No cat. of course there was no Cat. They always know.
I was up too and was going to take Nell round the lake whilst they were at the vet. That way we could go off to the Saint-Rémy fete on their return with little delay and a clean conscience. We hunted high and low. She wasn’t apparent in the outbuildings or around the house, she wasn’t up the chemin, she wasn’t in her old garden either, nor was she hanging around Marcel’s poultry pen. We had to give up looking as time was moving on.
Cat not being around, Mr L and Nell are now walking around the lake and I am sitting here amusing myself until they come back. I went to hang the washing out and, naturally, Cat was at the back door asking to be fed.
I fed her.
On Monday morning I believe that the best thing to do is to bring her in at 7am for feeding and then keep the little blighter in until vet time.
Whoops, better go, I hear growling (we are feeding Cat indoors in the hope of socialising her with the little one.)