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I am a bit desperate. I got taken by a company who charged me £3000 for a five year contract to look after my solar panels and the things I need to run them: the inverter and the batteries. I asked for some money from my equity release funds to pay off my credit card. The company handling my equity release said they wouldn't give me the funds without me talking to my financial advisor - and he told me that this was a scam. My solar panels should last ten years before needing support like this.
Meanwhile, I was due to get some money from the Department for Work and Pensions, and they didn't pay me because they are still working on my reassessment. The nice young man I spoke to said that he would press for the work to be done quickly, but can't guarantee anything. He also told me (though he shouldn't have) that I will continue to be paid the highest rate of care, but that my mobility payments will stop, which means that I'll be £100 less per month going forward. I am not happy, but not sure I want to upset the apple cart by making a request for a Mandatory Reconsideration. Having said that I don't understand how they can say I'm able to move better now than I could in 2022.
I have reached the end of my savings.
So that's it. I'm a toad beneath the harrow.
This would be a good time for a big win on the lottery, but I can't afford lottery tickets.
Meanwhile, I was due to get some money from the Department for Work and Pensions, and they didn't pay me because they are still working on my reassessment. The nice young man I spoke to said that he would press for the work to be done quickly, but can't guarantee anything. He also told me (though he shouldn't have) that I will continue to be paid the highest rate of care, but that my mobility payments will stop, which means that I'll be £100 less per month going forward. I am not happy, but not sure I want to upset the apple cart by making a request for a Mandatory Reconsideration. Having said that I don't understand how they can say I'm able to move better now than I could in 2022.
I have reached the end of my savings.
So that's it. I'm a toad beneath the harrow.
This would be a good time for a big win on the lottery, but I can't afford lottery tickets.
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I have had some bad news: my old friend Peter Cheer passed away in the last few days.
We (our DnD group) became worried when he didn't contact us to confirm whether or not he was playing last Sunday, and I had tried to get hold of him by email, text and Discord, with no luck. So I sent a message via the Police Scotland website for them to do a welfare check and a policeman rang me on Wednesday night with the bad news.
He told me that it was a 'medical issue' and nothing suspicious, which is something to be grateful for.
They are getting in touch with Peter's wife, Tabby, who is currently in Nairobi, through Interpol.
I am really upset, I was very fond of Pete, a kindly, good, man in all the best ways. He was a Quaker, and everything a Christian should be.
I’ll miss him. He used to stay with me during our August gaming get-togethers. Staying with me was cheaper than getting a room at the university.
He had an adventurous life despite having profound disabilities (he walked strangely, he was completely deaf in one ear, and had lost an eye) brought about by having a bad fall while mountaineering in 1981. He did Voluntary Service Overseas three times, in Kenya, in Mongolia, and I think the third time was in Ecuador, though I could be wrong.
We (our DnD group) became worried when he didn't contact us to confirm whether or not he was playing last Sunday, and I had tried to get hold of him by email, text and Discord, with no luck. So I sent a message via the Police Scotland website for them to do a welfare check and a policeman rang me on Wednesday night with the bad news.
He told me that it was a 'medical issue' and nothing suspicious, which is something to be grateful for.
They are getting in touch with Peter's wife, Tabby, who is currently in Nairobi, through Interpol.
I am really upset, I was very fond of Pete, a kindly, good, man in all the best ways. He was a Quaker, and everything a Christian should be.
I’ll miss him. He used to stay with me during our August gaming get-togethers. Staying with me was cheaper than getting a room at the university.
He had an adventurous life despite having profound disabilities (he walked strangely, he was completely deaf in one ear, and had lost an eye) brought about by having a bad fall while mountaineering in 1981. He did Voluntary Service Overseas three times, in Kenya, in Mongolia, and I think the third time was in Ecuador, though I could be wrong.
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I have been having trouble with my Solar Panels - not with the panels themselves, which are fine, but with the inverter and the datalogger, both of which were disconnected when Plusnet (my ISP) issued me with a new router, thus meaning that the name and password changed, and I didn't know how to alter them on the inverter and the datalogger.
Tonight, I went to bed worrying about it, and have got up at 4am, determined to fix the issues.
Reader, I found a description of what to do supplied by the manufacturer. I followed the instructions (which nobody would have worked out from first principles) and it now all works. How long it will work is another question, but in the short term at least, go me!
Tonight, I went to bed worrying about it, and have got up at 4am, determined to fix the issues.
Reader, I found a description of what to do supplied by the manufacturer. I followed the instructions (which nobody would have worked out from first principles) and it now all works. How long it will work is another question, but in the short term at least, go me!
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For some reason I’m not sure about I watched “Scarpetta” - the whole series.
I still have no clue what was happening most of the time. I actually prefer “Silent Witness” and that show is beginning to annoy me.
Now, I have read about half of Patricia Cornwell’s books, and I don’t remember any of them being as gloopy as the TV series. Nor do I remember them as being quite so full of horrible characters. Kay’s sister in particular I wanted to die a death. Kay herself was annoying and Lucy nearly as much. The only character I liked was the dead wife.
I also struggled with telling current events from flashbacks. They could at least have given Kay different hairstyles.
All in all, a waste of my time.
I still have no clue what was happening most of the time. I actually prefer “Silent Witness” and that show is beginning to annoy me.
Now, I have read about half of Patricia Cornwell’s books, and I don’t remember any of them being as gloopy as the TV series. Nor do I remember them as being quite so full of horrible characters. Kay’s sister in particular I wanted to die a death. Kay herself was annoying and Lucy nearly as much. The only character I liked was the dead wife.
I also struggled with telling current events from flashbacks. They could at least have given Kay different hairstyles.
All in all, a waste of my time.
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What it is to be the cat parent of two disabled cats.
Poor Opal is going through misery at the moment, poor baby. She’s been biting her fur off her back for well over a year, and while it’s better than it was, it’s still not ideal as she still has bare patches where she’s been chewing. I took her to the vet last week for the vet to look her over before prescribing her Metacam again.
Trip to the vet (£16 in taxi fares) plus £210 in costs. Ouch. The doors of the poor house gape wide.
The vet took one look at the sore on her back, decided it was infected, and so prescribed a tube of steroid gel and an antibiotic. I have been trying to get her to allow me to put the gel on and eventually had to resort to a cat onesie to stop her licking it off. She also didn’t like the taste of the antibiotic in her food. She loathed the onesie I made her wear with the heat of 1000 blazing suns, and once it was on she wouldn’t move or eat. She threw off both attempts of giving her the cone of shame about 10 minutes after it was put on. I’ve been beside myself with worry. I love my cats, even Geraint who constantly misbehaves.
Second trip to the vet, £16 in taxi fares plus £50 in costs. The cost this time was for a wormer and flea treatment for Geraint.
The vet identified an ulcer on Opal’s gum, just next to her left front canine. Treatment: stop giving her Metacam for at least two days, and come back on Wednesday to get a steroid injection.
I took Opal back to the vets today (£16 in taxi fares, £39 in costs) and they gave her the steroid injection. I pleaded to be allowed to remove the onesie during the day and very reluctantly they said OK, if she has it on at night. I’m not completely impressed because she loathes having it put on and off even more than she hates wearing it.
Having said that, though, once it was off, she ate all her breakfast and licked the bowl clean. So, it achieved something. She’s now asleep on my desk. I’d say she was watching me type, but she’s spark out.
Poor Opal is going through misery at the moment, poor baby. She’s been biting her fur off her back for well over a year, and while it’s better than it was, it’s still not ideal as she still has bare patches where she’s been chewing. I took her to the vet last week for the vet to look her over before prescribing her Metacam again.
Trip to the vet (£16 in taxi fares) plus £210 in costs. Ouch. The doors of the poor house gape wide.
The vet took one look at the sore on her back, decided it was infected, and so prescribed a tube of steroid gel and an antibiotic. I have been trying to get her to allow me to put the gel on and eventually had to resort to a cat onesie to stop her licking it off. She also didn’t like the taste of the antibiotic in her food. She loathed the onesie I made her wear with the heat of 1000 blazing suns, and once it was on she wouldn’t move or eat. She threw off both attempts of giving her the cone of shame about 10 minutes after it was put on. I’ve been beside myself with worry. I love my cats, even Geraint who constantly misbehaves.
Second trip to the vet, £16 in taxi fares plus £50 in costs. The cost this time was for a wormer and flea treatment for Geraint.
The vet identified an ulcer on Opal’s gum, just next to her left front canine. Treatment: stop giving her Metacam for at least two days, and come back on Wednesday to get a steroid injection.
I took Opal back to the vets today (£16 in taxi fares, £39 in costs) and they gave her the steroid injection. I pleaded to be allowed to remove the onesie during the day and very reluctantly they said OK, if she has it on at night. I’m not completely impressed because she loathes having it put on and off even more than she hates wearing it.
Having said that, though, once it was off, she ate all her breakfast and licked the bowl clean. So, it achieved something. She’s now asleep on my desk. I’d say she was watching me type, but she’s spark out.
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I’m exhausted, and I don’t know why. I’m working with my CPAP machine quite well, and it works, but I’m starting to fall asleep in the afternoons again.
Mind you, I had a good reason yesterday. When I went to hospital at the end of January, I was given a prescription. I took it to the pharmacy but it turned out that the doctor (whom I suspect to be a locum) had not signed or dated the scrip, and therefore it was useless. On Monday I had a letter from the hospital about the appointment, and usefully there was a phone number.
I rang the number and was told that if I came to the hospital at 09:15 on Wednesday, they’d give me a new prescription. I rather balked at the time, but I pulled myself from my bed at a sparrow’s fart and made it to the hospital by 09:10. Great, I thought, I will be home by 10:15. Not so. I was finally given my new prescription at 11:00, and had been excruciatingly bored, not to mention cold. Most hospitals seem to be overheated, but that one is always cold.
Worse, when I left the hospital to catch a bus home, I had to wait in the freezing wind. By the time the bus came, the muscles of my face wouldn’t move, and I wondered if that’s what Botox feels like.
I made it home at about 11:30, and had a hot breakfast at the local club, which has a café at the back during the mornings. It was very nice to have a meal I hadn’t prepared myself. Having said that, I’m living largely on breakfast cereal because even heating up ready meals is proving too much for me these days.
Cats
Geraint seems to be doing better, he’s gained some weight and is no longer the skinny cat who originally came here. He plays, has zoomies and when I’m playing my PS5 he curls up at my feet, keeping them warm.
Opal still has a problem with her back – she’s chewing her fur, for all the world like a person with trichotillomania. It really worries me. She’s on Metacam and Gabapentin, but though it helps a bit, it doesn’t solve the problem completely. The vet only suggested that she be fed something that is a specialist food for a cat with a problem with coat and stomach. Again, it helps, but not completely. I give her a taurine supplement and various oils, but really, I’m at a loss.
Mind you, I had a good reason yesterday. When I went to hospital at the end of January, I was given a prescription. I took it to the pharmacy but it turned out that the doctor (whom I suspect to be a locum) had not signed or dated the scrip, and therefore it was useless. On Monday I had a letter from the hospital about the appointment, and usefully there was a phone number.
I rang the number and was told that if I came to the hospital at 09:15 on Wednesday, they’d give me a new prescription. I rather balked at the time, but I pulled myself from my bed at a sparrow’s fart and made it to the hospital by 09:10. Great, I thought, I will be home by 10:15. Not so. I was finally given my new prescription at 11:00, and had been excruciatingly bored, not to mention cold. Most hospitals seem to be overheated, but that one is always cold.
Worse, when I left the hospital to catch a bus home, I had to wait in the freezing wind. By the time the bus came, the muscles of my face wouldn’t move, and I wondered if that’s what Botox feels like.
I made it home at about 11:30, and had a hot breakfast at the local club, which has a café at the back during the mornings. It was very nice to have a meal I hadn’t prepared myself. Having said that, I’m living largely on breakfast cereal because even heating up ready meals is proving too much for me these days.
Cats
Geraint seems to be doing better, he’s gained some weight and is no longer the skinny cat who originally came here. He plays, has zoomies and when I’m playing my PS5 he curls up at my feet, keeping them warm.
Opal still has a problem with her back – she’s chewing her fur, for all the world like a person with trichotillomania. It really worries me. She’s on Metacam and Gabapentin, but though it helps a bit, it doesn’t solve the problem completely. The vet only suggested that she be fed something that is a specialist food for a cat with a problem with coat and stomach. Again, it helps, but not completely. I give her a taurine supplement and various oils, but really, I’m at a loss.
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So, we’re through with January. Good.
I’m a bit tired, I don’t know why. My CPAP machine mask seems to leak, but there’s no obvious reason why. It’s a mystery.
Cats
Opal had a big sore on her back where she was biting herself all the time that Smokey was ill. I’ve taken her to the vet and the only suggestions she made was that I put her on a special food for stomach and skin. So, I did. And it seems to be working, albeit slowly. It’s down to one inch across from more like four. As I said, progress.
Little Geraint has gained weight; when he came to me, he was thin as a rake, and his fur was in an appalling condition, all over mats. Since I started to brush him, he’s been pulling the mats off himself, as if he couldn’t be bothered before and now, he has someone looking after him, he’s prepared to meet them halfway. For a couple of weeks my carpet was covered with mats of fur, but he seems to have succeeded and now his fur just needs to grow in again, which I hope will happen in the spring.
Health
I’ve been to the hospital for my tummy troubles and they’re threatening me with a colonoscopy. I’m not looking forward to that at all. Really don’t want to play, I’ve had one before and they suck.
I also saw my psychiatrist, and he suggested we play around with my mood drugs. So I’ve cut one in half and we’ll see if that works as he hopes it will. Fingers crossed.
Gaming
I’m concentrating on Skyrim and I have a character who’s reached level 49. He’s now finding NPC’s dead in ditches, which is distressing when they’re vendors who had been useful. So far, two have been killed by dragons.
I’m a bit tired, I don’t know why. My CPAP machine mask seems to leak, but there’s no obvious reason why. It’s a mystery.
Cats
Opal had a big sore on her back where she was biting herself all the time that Smokey was ill. I’ve taken her to the vet and the only suggestions she made was that I put her on a special food for stomach and skin. So, I did. And it seems to be working, albeit slowly. It’s down to one inch across from more like four. As I said, progress.
Little Geraint has gained weight; when he came to me, he was thin as a rake, and his fur was in an appalling condition, all over mats. Since I started to brush him, he’s been pulling the mats off himself, as if he couldn’t be bothered before and now, he has someone looking after him, he’s prepared to meet them halfway. For a couple of weeks my carpet was covered with mats of fur, but he seems to have succeeded and now his fur just needs to grow in again, which I hope will happen in the spring.
Health
I’ve been to the hospital for my tummy troubles and they’re threatening me with a colonoscopy. I’m not looking forward to that at all. Really don’t want to play, I’ve had one before and they suck.
I also saw my psychiatrist, and he suggested we play around with my mood drugs. So I’ve cut one in half and we’ll see if that works as he hopes it will. Fingers crossed.
Gaming
I’m concentrating on Skyrim and I have a character who’s reached level 49. He’s now finding NPC’s dead in ditches, which is distressing when they’re vendors who had been useful. So far, two have been killed by dragons.
So, my friend “J” sent out a round robin email wishing our gaming group a Happy New Year, and outlining that he was planning a gaming get together fairly soon at a venue yet to be chosen and a time yet to be decided on. I replied, saying I’d like to come but it depends on the cost.
Nothing happened for a couple of weeks.
Then I got the following email: Me: “I’m up for it if I can afford it.”
“Him”: That's not the main issue: I'm sure we could have a whip round or something.
“I have now looked at various venues but it will be difficult to make a decision as they are so good, if diverse. Even if I confined this decision to those with bedrooms on the ground floor and disabled access, I am still doubtful that you could even manage. You could barely walk in August and I don't feel you could travel for 2-4 hours on public transport without a carer/plus size wheelchair now. Anyway, I don't want the risk of you collapsing in transit on my conscience.
“Unless I find somewhere I feel is particularly possible, participation doesn't seem viable to me. Sorry about that. I hope you understand.”
What this boils down to, shorn of its verbiage, is: I have decided that as a disabled person, you can’t manage, so I have decided you can’t come. I therefore rescind my invitation. Plus, I can’t be arsed to find a suitable venue.
Now, I don’t want to go somewhere where I wouldn’t be welcome, but I’m also well pissed off that he didn’t even ask me what kind of venue I would need.
Nothing happened for a couple of weeks.
Then I got the following email: Me: “I’m up for it if I can afford it.”
“Him”: That's not the main issue: I'm sure we could have a whip round or something.
“I have now looked at various venues but it will be difficult to make a decision as they are so good, if diverse. Even if I confined this decision to those with bedrooms on the ground floor and disabled access, I am still doubtful that you could even manage. You could barely walk in August and I don't feel you could travel for 2-4 hours on public transport without a carer/plus size wheelchair now. Anyway, I don't want the risk of you collapsing in transit on my conscience.
“Unless I find somewhere I feel is particularly possible, participation doesn't seem viable to me. Sorry about that. I hope you understand.”
What this boils down to, shorn of its verbiage, is: I have decided that as a disabled person, you can’t manage, so I have decided you can’t come. I therefore rescind my invitation. Plus, I can’t be arsed to find a suitable venue.
Now, I don’t want to go somewhere where I wouldn’t be welcome, but I’m also well pissed off that he didn’t even ask me what kind of venue I would need.
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We have snow here in Wales. Not just on the mountains, which is normal, but down here in the town, which is weird.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aunty_marion should be going home to Islington tomorrow, but at the moment there are no taxis running and the situation may remain this way tomorrow and possibly Wednesday. So we keep our fingers crossed that the snow will melt. There are also no trains.
In other news, the toilet on my en-suite is blocked. I have tried everything I know of and it’s still blocked. I have arranged for someone to come and unblock it tomorrow, but likewise I am half expecting a phone call to say they can’t make it due to snow. To add annoyance, I am in the middle of changing insurance for those sort of things. British Gas Homecare wanted £705 for the year. I baulked. The new supplier, YourRepair is charging £450 (ish).
aunty_marion should be going home to Islington tomorrow, but at the moment there are no taxis running and the situation may remain this way tomorrow and possibly Wednesday. So we keep our fingers crossed that the snow will melt. There are also no trains. In other news, the toilet on my en-suite is blocked. I have tried everything I know of and it’s still blocked. I have arranged for someone to come and unblock it tomorrow, but likewise I am half expecting a phone call to say they can’t make it due to snow. To add annoyance, I am in the middle of changing insurance for those sort of things. British Gas Homecare wanted £705 for the year. I baulked. The new supplier, YourRepair is charging £450 (ish).
HNY to all who read here.
Geraint is collecting names; so far he’s Fudge Stealer, Ratbag, Gremlin Stinky Poo Nobbs. He’s a sweetheart when quiet and a nightmare when awake and playing.
Geraint is collecting names; so far he’s Fudge Stealer, Ratbag, Gremlin Stinky Poo Nobbs. He’s a sweetheart when quiet and a nightmare when awake and playing.
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Garaint's booster shots went fine, but we must change Opal's food.
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Geraint has blotted his copybook and no mistake. He scratched aunty_marion. I think she quite liked him until then. He is quite an unpredictable cat. He’s due at the vets to get his booster shots tomorrow.
Opal has a big area on her back where she’s bitten all her fur off. She looks a mess and I’m going to try to get her to the vet as soon as I’m paid again, because I have no idea what to do for her.
aunty_marion. I think she quite liked him until then. He is quite an unpredictable cat. He’s due at the vets to get his booster shots tomorrow. Opal has a big area on her back where she’s bitten all her fur off. She looks a mess and I’m going to try to get her to the vet as soon as I’m paid again, because I have no idea what to do for her.
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I had a Tesco delivery last Friday. No problem.
I forgot that I’d booked one for yesterday by mistake and then forgot to cancel it. So we got a load more food. I’m sureaunty_marion and I will manage to eat most of it. At least, we can hope.
Cat news
Geraint is beginning to settle in, he hasn’t yet bitten Marion. And we’re managing to train him to be a bit less hit-and-miss with his litter tray. He’s also beginning to get on with Opal. So, progress.
Edited to add: we have discovered that Geraint is deaf.
I forgot that I’d booked one for yesterday by mistake and then forgot to cancel it. So we got a load more food. I’m sure
aunty_marion and I will manage to eat most of it. At least, we can hope.Cat news
Geraint is beginning to settle in, he hasn’t yet bitten Marion. And we’re managing to train him to be a bit less hit-and-miss with his litter tray. He’s also beginning to get on with Opal. So, progress.
Edited to add: we have discovered that Geraint is deaf.
Today Carys (my cleaner) and I discovered that Geraint has become exceptionally protective of me despite being with me for less than a week. And he bites. He really can bite hard.
We did seem to resolve the issue after Carys fed him a few handfuls of his kibble. He appeared to accept her then, though he stuck close to find out what she was doing. He didn’t, however, react badly to the vacuum cleaner or the spot cleaner I have.
In other news, I have bought a bin for my living room that he shouldn’t be able to get into. I grew very weary of putting the rubbish back in the living room bin after he’d dug it all out again.
I told her that if he bites poor Opal and there is blood, I’m going to have to tell the ASDFR people that we’re not a good fit. So far, I have been holding off introducing them.
We did seem to resolve the issue after Carys fed him a few handfuls of his kibble. He appeared to accept her then, though he stuck close to find out what she was doing. He didn’t, however, react badly to the vacuum cleaner or the spot cleaner I have.
In other news, I have bought a bin for my living room that he shouldn’t be able to get into. I grew very weary of putting the rubbish back in the living room bin after he’d dug it all out again.
I told her that if he bites poor Opal and there is blood, I’m going to have to tell the ASDFR people that we’re not a good fit. So far, I have been holding off introducing them.
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Geraint continues with his weirdness.
I actually caught him trying to steal fudge this afternoon. He has learned nothing from being sick four times on my living room carpet - fudge is not a suitable food for cats. I really think that he and Opal have a brain cell between them, and currently Opal has it.
I actually caught him trying to steal fudge this afternoon. He has learned nothing from being sick four times on my living room carpet - fudge is not a suitable food for cats. I really think that he and Opal have a brain cell between them, and currently Opal has it.
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Picture of Geraint stealing treats
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Geraint, my new kitty, has arrived. I’ll post a picture when he stops hiding underneath the table. He has not yet encountered Opal.
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With poor Smokey having gone (and I do miss her dreadfully), I contacted the Anglesey Feline whatsit thingy because I wanted a second cat, and it can take a rescue service months to find a cat which must be kept indoors.
I am thereby caught, because they already had one they were looking for a good home for. His current name is Quata, and he’s a medium haired tabby.
The reason he’s an indoor-only cat is because he has cerebellar hypoplasia, also known as “wobbly cat syndrome”. He’s a sweetheart and not as wobbly as some cats I’ve seen with that condition, but is definitely best kept indoors.
He arrives at my place on Saturday afternoon. I am going to change his name to Geraint, which is a solid Welsh name.
Opal
Opal is over grooming, and I’m not sure why. The area in her middle back is devoid of fur, but she won’t let me put ointment on her, even though it would help. It’s a worry.
I can’t take her to the vet this week as I’m not paid again until Friday, and had a lot of expenses this month, what with cremating Smokey and having to pay the man for repairs on my fence. Fences, as I discovered, are not covered by buildings insurance.
I am thereby caught, because they already had one they were looking for a good home for. His current name is Quata, and he’s a medium haired tabby.
The reason he’s an indoor-only cat is because he has cerebellar hypoplasia, also known as “wobbly cat syndrome”. He’s a sweetheart and not as wobbly as some cats I’ve seen with that condition, but is definitely best kept indoors.
He arrives at my place on Saturday afternoon. I am going to change his name to Geraint, which is a solid Welsh name.
Opal
Opal is over grooming, and I’m not sure why. The area in her middle back is devoid of fur, but she won’t let me put ointment on her, even though it would help. It’s a worry.
I can’t take her to the vet this week as I’m not paid again until Friday, and had a lot of expenses this month, what with cremating Smokey and having to pay the man for repairs on my fence. Fences, as I discovered, are not covered by buildings insurance.
I had Smokey PTS today. I am heartbroken. All the way home from the vets I wanted to scream “give me my cat back”.
Smokey came to live with me when I was living in London and shortly after my mum died. I had wanted a cat for some time, but given that I visited mum every three weeks it didn’t seem fair to have someone have to come in and feed it while I trotted off.
She came from the RSPCA cat shelter in (I think) Finsbury Park, with all the palaver that entails around being inspected and providing reliable references.
I chose her rather than her sister because Smokey was lively and the sister wasn’t. And because I knew that as a black cat she might struggle more to find a home.
Why now? Smokey had been struggling more and more each day. She had a hard little cough that I didn’t like the sound of. She was struggling to jump onto my bed. Her coat was “staring”, meaning it stood up rather than lying down and being glossy, and, as I became aware on Saturday night, her purr had changed. In fact she didn’t seem to be able to purr properly. Worst of all, she just sat in a corner all day and looked mournful. In short, it was time.
I wish I could believe in things like the “rainbow bridge” but I can’t.
She was the best cat, and I will miss her always.
Smokey came to live with me when I was living in London and shortly after my mum died. I had wanted a cat for some time, but given that I visited mum every three weeks it didn’t seem fair to have someone have to come in and feed it while I trotted off.
She came from the RSPCA cat shelter in (I think) Finsbury Park, with all the palaver that entails around being inspected and providing reliable references.
I chose her rather than her sister because Smokey was lively and the sister wasn’t. And because I knew that as a black cat she might struggle more to find a home.
Why now? Smokey had been struggling more and more each day. She had a hard little cough that I didn’t like the sound of. She was struggling to jump onto my bed. Her coat was “staring”, meaning it stood up rather than lying down and being glossy, and, as I became aware on Saturday night, her purr had changed. In fact she didn’t seem to be able to purr properly. Worst of all, she just sat in a corner all day and looked mournful. In short, it was time.
I wish I could believe in things like the “rainbow bridge” but I can’t.
She was the best cat, and I will miss her always.
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