Marching On

'Tis the season of mad animals

Christmas and animals are a bad combination.  A partnership designed to fail.  Just ask a turkey........

Lila is scared of Christmas lights.  Which is a big problem since half the village has outdoor lights up.  She barks and tries to hide between my legs, which of course, would work if she was a poodle.  But she isn't, and frankly, she looks quite daft getting upset by a giant illuminated Santa.

Ellie and Frankie are braver.  They spend a large portion of their day trying to eat the tree.  Frankie in particular likes to hide underneath it and pounce on anyone passing.  Sadly, the tree is in the conservatory and so no-one passes it.  He will sit for hours just waiting, occasionally batting a branch to pass the time.  After a few hours, he might pounce on Ellie, who then smacks the living crap out of him.  He isn't the brightest cat around because this usually happens on a daily basis.

Ellie also likes to look at the lights at night-time.  She talks to them for hours on end.

Charlie and Ozzie have been caught trying to steal decorations.  It is nice to see Charlie being mischievous, but there are things that no respectable Christmas Angel should have to endure, and being molested by two overweight and neutered toms is one of them.

Thankfully, Willow and Holly aren't showing any signs of caring about Christmas.  Neither allow anything to stand between them and their naps, but I guarantee that as soon as the turkey goes in the oven, Willow will be underfoot until she receives what she considers to be her fair share.

And things can only get worse.  Tonight is a full moon.

Hold me.

One today

Darth Lila is one today.  Here she is, in all her birthday glory (she wears the collar - Uncle Sam is nekkid):

And for old times sake:

Four days

I've turned to drink today.  My first though was the Dark Side, but one Dark Lord in the household is enough. 

Darth Lila has taken to grabbing my foot when I am sat in the swivel chair and dragging me round in circles.

So alcohol it is.

One long week

I had my hen night last night.

It was fun.  It was a nice and small affair, and we had a good few drinks, some nice food and some extremely bizarre (and filthy) conversations.  Just what I wanted, but I can't believe that it is only a week tomorrow.  One week tomorrow.

As befitting a hen night, the number of sexual partners came around in conversation.  I know that I am both unusual and very lucky to have only ever been with the Baron.  I was a relatively late bloomer, and he was my one and only boyfriend.  It might be sweet, but it doesn't make for a thrilling hen night conversation!  Still, since two of my friends have had over forty partners each, they took up the slack for me.  Seriously,  I just can't get my head around that.

Thankfully, no-one turned up with a vibrator, veil, L plates or any other nasty hen night crap.  I would have smacked them!

The road between the church and the reception hall has been closed, and will not reopen until after the wedding.  So the carefully drawn maps have had to be redrawn and resent out to show the new diversion that is in place.  Hopefully that is the only thing that will go wrong!

One of our invited guests died last night,  She was 98 and had suffered a series of strokes, so this wasn't totally unexpected, but I am sad that she won't be with us.  She was like my third grandmother. 

My hair is still black, but I absolutely love it.  As does the Baron, my mother, and my friends.  I'm going to leave it.  I've enjoyed being a goth again!

Darth Lila has cystitis.  She is so miserable and she can't stop pissing on the floor.  She is still in her lightshade as her wet dermatatis hasn't cleared up yet.  She has a medical regime that would rival the average old age pensioner, but hopefully, she will be well again very soon.

Despite all this, I am very happy at the moment.  I am so excited about next week!

Just a normal evening

Imagine a rottweiler.  What do you picture?

Perhaps you see a loyal family dog, sitting calmly amongst young children.  What about a big snarling dog, straight out of the The Omen?  Maybe you see a dog with its teeth bared, and a demonic gaze?

Shrink that mental picture down to a ten month old puppy.  Remove the hair from her bum and hips.  Put a tattered lightshade round her head (she's worked out how to turn it around and chew the clips that hold it on).  Stick a lime green pull toy in her mouth.  Picture the look of insanity that lights her eyes.

Now imagine tug of war with the pictured rottweiler.  Put yourself in a swivel chair on hardwood floors, take hold of her green dribble covered toy and imagine the chaos that ensues.

And that is how I spent my Monday evening. 

Return of the Monsters

They are all home again.  It was peaceful while it lasted.

It was absolutely pouring when I collected them.  I later found out that over an inch and a half of rain fell in half an hour, which as an aside caused flash floods in London.  I could have calculated that myself by wringing out my clothes.

Because I have so many cats, and several are quite stroppy to boot, I get to go into the cat enclosure to help retrieve them.

Charlie and Oz were first.  You'll no doubt be pleased to know that I splurged on a rather nice carrier for them to share.  We caught Oz no problem, but once he felt the rain he started to fret.  Charlie took five minutes to catch.  I couldn't see for rain streaming into my eyes.  Charlie also objected very loudly to the rain.

That rather nice cat carrier is bloody heavy when you put in two fat cats.  I broke the handle straight away and had to lug it out in my arms to the car.  The car was parked some five minutes away, and somehow I parked it in a small ditch.  Which flooded.

I made that journey another three times.  Accompanied by screaming cats who did not approve of the torrential rain they were being subjected to.  Especially when I had to put their carrier on the flooded ground in order to open the door.

Then came Lila.  Lila hadn't been too impressed with the kennels.  Apparently she sat morosely in her enclosure, not making a sound, and drooled all day. You'd think she'd be pleased to see me.

Not a chance.  She hates the rain too and didn't want to leave.  We dragged her out of the kennels and tried to persuade her that the car would be drier.  Except she hates car travel even more than she hates standing in the rain and so she sat in the flooded ditch and refused to budge.

It was still pissing down.  By this point, I was soaked through to the skin and was past caring about the state of my clothes.  Good thing really.

I picked her up and popped her in the back.  She took offence at this, tried to bite me and then leapt back out and landed with a huge splash in the flooded ditch.  So we tried again.  And again.  And once more for good measure.  It was still raining.

Nine month old rottweilers aren't just heavy and wriggly and bitey.  They are completely insane, knowing no physical fear.  Their brainpower is questionable though.  So when she ran head first into a fence, we took our chance, rammed her back in and slammed the door shut.

Then the bloody rain stopped.

All kinds of odd

Oddness abounds.

It all started yesterday, with an early morning phone call to tell me that my double glazing was ready for fitting.  We've been waiting for this, but without an exact date we couldn't really make any arrangements.

The Monsters needed to be put into cattery and doggery.

Easier said than done.  Willow started spitting when she saw the carriers.  Holly hid on top of the kitchen cupboards.  Frankie tried to blend in with the brown sofa.  He is all black so it wasn't wholly unwasted.  Ozzie ignored me.  Ellie tried to climb up the wall.  Charlie skulked around.

Charlie, bless his orange fur, simply looked defeated and walked into his carrier.

Ellie and Frankie were wrestled in together with only minimal bloodshed.  Willow and Holly were eventually coaxed into their separate carriers, although the hoover was deployed to get them down from their respective hidey holes.

That left Oz.  And we only have four carriers.

This never used to be a problem.  Harvey and Frankie would share, Ellie and Charlie would share and Willow and Holly had their own.  Willow and Holly don't share well, with the exception of their claws.

Now we have Oz. He adores Charlie, so the plan was to squidge them in together.  My two fat boys.

Charlie had other ideas.  He wanted that carrier to himself, and he refused to budge.  This of course was a problem as we don't have another carrier.  We briefly toyed with the idea of putting him in with Willow or Holly, but decided pretty quickly that it wouldn't work.  With the sheer effort it takes to get Frankie and Ellie in, it wasn't worth getting them out and swapping them around.

So...

This is embarrassing.

We put Oz in a wicker picnic basket.  And did the buckles up.

We had to borrow my parents Land Rover to get there.  Even with years of playing Tetris, there was just no way that three adults, five baskets containing six cats and a car sick rottweiler were going to fit in a small three door car.  Even in the Land Rover it was a tight squeeze.

We set off.  Lila was sick.  Oz kept toppling his basket.  All six cats discovered a talent for opera.  Lila was sick again.  I got lost.  Charlie started howling.  Holly joined in.  Oz tried to escape the basket.  Lila was sick again.

Of course, the cats refused to leave their carriers when we arrived.  Ellie was so reluctant to enter the cattery that she managed to hang on when the carrier was completely vertical.

Thankfully Lila trotted off with nary a backwards glance.

I went to work.  I had a meeting to get to.  Naturally I rushed there, arriving with seconds to spare, to find out that he was running late and only had a few minutes to spare.

My meeting, for which I had spent an hour on the train, lasted seven and a half minutes.  I'm so glad that I bothered to show up.

So I sat down, and enjoyed the three hours I had to kill before my next meeting.  I wandered through London, arriving on time at my next client.  To find out that she was in Manchester.  Meeting cancelled.

I went home to a very empty house.  Not that I stayed for long, as I had to pick up the Boy and my sister from Heathrow airport.  They had spent the week in Mauritius, and as my sister's birthday present (she was 26 yesterday),  I agreed to pick her up.

So my mother and I set off, braving rush hour traffic through roadworks.  It took forever.  My sister's bag was held up, and so I drove round the airport several times.  I had to illegally park so that I could run in before I wet myself, and then finally I saw the Boy.

If you were at Heathrow last night, I'd just like to apologise on behalf of the excited small blonde boy who screamed and dropped his bags when he saw Auntie and Nanny waiting for him.  If he ran into you before he threw himself at me, I'd also like to apologise.

So we then came back through the traffic.  And went home to a very empty house.

But, this was all for a purpose; well maybe not the jaunt to Heathrow. At a very indecent hour this morning, there was a knock at the door and the first of many requests for a cup of tea.  I left for work shortly after every single window had been ripped out. 

When I got home, all was complete, although the teabags had all mysteriously disappeared.  It looks great.  We have a front door that actually shuts properly, and windows that can be locked in an open position without kitties making an escape.  No more condensation.  It cost a small fortune but it needed to be done.

I cannot describe how empty the house feels without the Monsters.  I'm constantly looking for them, wondering where they are.  This morning, I tripped over the Baron's white socks (he is really crap about puttng them in the washing basket) and black shirt, and apologised to what I thought was Ozzie!

I keep finding myself checking the time because I am ready to walk Lila.  I found myself standing in the kitchen holding the kibble tub for the cats wondering where they all were.

Still, they will all be back home tomorrow morning.  I can't wait!

The Darth Lila Strikes Back

Remember a few months back when Lila ate a chunk of the wall in the living room?

We finally got round to repairing it on Friday.  We filled the hole, Lila ate the fresh plaster and we re-filled it.

Whilst it was drying, we decided that it might be prudent to put Lila in the bathroom for safety.  Fun though it is plastering, we thought it might be quicker to just let it dry without canine assistance (or not).

Can you see where this might be going?

Darth Bitchbag destroyed the bathroom.  She broke the door, chewed through the skirting board, and ripped up the entire carpet (and underlay).  And then she pissed on the wreckage.

I don't think that dog will be getting any pocket money for the rest of her natural life.  And if she keeps eating household goods, her natural life might be a tad on the short side.

Urm...

I just read back my last post, and it does kind of read that I was responsible for the tooth loss in some way involving my knuckle.

I have slandered myself.  The above is a steaming pile of hotspur.

Lila was in fact bullying her uncle.  She stole his favourite bone and paraded around him gloating.  He sat down and scratched - he is far too much of a gentleman (or a coward) to tackle her.  She sat and chewed his bone for several hours, her eyes never leaving her uncle.

I just had a phonecall from my mother to tell me she found a tooth next to the bone.  And to ask me if I wanted to save it (?!).  Clearly even my own mother thinks I need a baby instead of a house full of pets.

My bleeding knuckle stems from (imagine a very deep, male voice, probably with a corny American accent) a  reality tv show soon to be aired - "When Bathtimes Go Wrong".

Lila was covered in Sam's drool, mud, her own piss (she ran through an accident she had earlier, slid and fell straight in), and her own vomit (she gets car sick).  So she needed a bath.

However, Miss Lila was a tad unimpressed with this.  After barking incessantly at the shower head, she decided to growl at the shampoo bottle.  Then she tried to catch the water stream with her mouth, missed, and removed a chunk of my hand.

Now, are babies any easier?

And I didn't keep the tooth.  Just in case you were wondering.

Lots of blood........

.....and it isn't ALL mine.

Lila lost a tooth today.

This might explain her biteyness. 

And the gaping wound in my knuckle that refuses to stop bleeding.