yonmei

02:17 pm: The problem with going out, I find
...is that having got home, I hate to leave again. *hugs home*

My catsitter, whom I will call Barbara Taylor Bradford because that isn't remotely her name, texted me on Monday night when I was sitting in Dresden's finest vegetarian restaurant (or at least, as vegetarian as a restaurant gets in Germany) eating the most glorious stinging-nettle soup (tastes like watercress) and about to eat the most delicious gnocchi-and-pear bake, drinking Normandy cider, er, I'm getting distracted, aren't I? Yes, the food was great. Anyway, BTB texted me, to ask if she could let Bob out because she was beginning to feel like such a bad guy. (I am familiar with Bob's heartrending flower-like face held up to you with big beseeching eyes, and also her heartrending wails of despair: it's not that she's loud, it's that she's so pathetic...). And I had to say no. Because I was afraid that BTB would never be able to get Bob back: my fluffy cat is the beloved of the neighbourhood.

Yesterday, there was a knocking at the door, and when I opened it, I found four small children all sitting round Bob, who was letting them stroke her. As soon as I opened the door, she fled inside, and they asked "Can we come in?" to which I said "No," and not only because the house was a mess - frankly, I shouldn't really care about that: I said "No" because I didn't want to be bothered, and I didn't think Bob wanted to be bothered!

Anyway, the cats seem to have recovered their equilibrium, and are going out and going in as usual. While I am clinging to the walls of my home like a veritable octopus. Must. Go. Out!




Tags: cat politics, just my life really, photos