March 12th
The cats’ party came to an abrupt halt with the emergence
of Flossom.
Dressed in her Sleeping Beauty costume, she regally sashayed
out of the closet.
“I’d like to make some toast”, she said.
Sticky and Grommart were asleep before she even began. Zeuss
was starting to back out of the cat door when she spied him.
“Excuse me”, she said loudly - he continued
reversing.
“Right,” said Flossom, resplendent in her shiny
pink tutu, “That’s it, I’m coming over
to slap you”.
“Do that,” yelled D. I. Zeuss, “and I’ll
arrest you for being drunk in charge of a hairy fairy”.
Flossom lunged at him but it was too late, the detective
disappeared into the night leaving the rather tiddly hairy
fairy wedged in the cat flap, where she promptly fell asleep
cushioned between layers of silk and tulle.
March 13th
Poor Brent is just a wee bit tired and grumpy and with
good reason; Grommart.
P.C. Grommart excelled herself with her police work last
night, with the arrest of a furry suspect at about 11.30pm.
The first we knew of it was a loud hammering on the bedroom
door followed by a series of sounds reminiscent of a chirping
bird.
I got up to investigate to find the proud P. C. with an
unconscious felon at her feet. “LOOK! I think it
could be Bin Laden” she chirped, “caught him
about to disappear into an underground network of tunnels”.
I accompanied the presumptuous P.C. outside with her suspect
terrorist and locked the cat door for good measure.
Ten minutes later she was up at the bedroom window, bang,
bang, bang, she battered the window with the force of a
mini hurricane, before jumping down and running round to
the cat door which she proceeded to batter before returning
for another round at the window.
D.I. Zeuss, who had somehow managed to insert himself
into bed with his head on the pillow next to mine, pressed
his nose into my cheek and sighed happily, Flossom was
snoring loudly on the end of the bed, it seemed a shame
to disturb them.
Finally Brent heaved himself up, stomped out to the cat
door and opened it.
P.C.’s Grommart and Sticky flew into the bedroom
to report the night’s events to a now wide awake
D. I. Zeuss.
All the cats bar the sleeping Flossom, were removed from
the bedroom and dumped unceremoniously into the lounge.
Brent returned to bed and had just drifted off to sleep
when the previously inert Flossom decided to preside at
the criminal hearing in the lounge.
Rather than risk waking Brent, I thought it best that
I get up and open the door for Possovitz. The minute I
did, however, Grommart – the most annoying cat in
the whole wide world raced in and hid under the bed…
March 14th
A
truck ran over the bed during the night.
At least I’m fairly certain that’s what happened;
there’s no tyre marks and Flossom and Brent are fine
and no one heard anything but I can definitely feel the results.
I seem to have multiple contusions and broken bones; not
that anyone can see them, in fact I look ridiculously normal
for someone who has been flattened by a big Mack, but the
real miracle is that by about lunch time I am expecting everything
will have mended itself again.
Ahh Fibromyalgia – The ‘Claytons’ illness;
it’s like having a major accident when you haven’t
actually had a major accident.
March 15th
I schooled Nibbler, and then I schooled the Phantom.
The Phantom had been watching Nibbler being schooled with
what I perceived to be an unhealthy interest.
I learned the reason when it came time to work him, he pranced
around the arena in a perfect imitation of Nibbler and when
we had finished, he tossed his head proudly and his bridle
flew off, which is exactly what Nibbler did.
Persil was thrilled; he couldn’t wait to try this,
I caught him running about tossing his head around, practicing.
“Little Aussie Tosser”, said The Phantom.
March 16th
I
was a whirlwind of activity yesterday.
Brent and I went into the townhouse to work on it and
I mowed the lawns and weeded the garden, then I drove back
and rode The Phantom (who was a Gem) and Brent had a friend
round for dinner so I cooked a pretty edible sort of meal
and THEN and here’s the killer…after dinner
I got the ironing board out and did the ironing!
I’ve never done that before, I don’t know
what got into me.
After I’d done the ironing I polished the silver.
O.K. I may not have actually polished the silver; here’s
the thing – we haven’t got any, but if we did,
that’s what I would have done.
O.K. that’s bollocks, that’s the last thing
I would have done, I just made that up for effect, but
this fact is undeniable, I’ve finally turned into
a housewife.
Imagine my Mother’s surprise when she hears about
this.
March 17th
Nibbler appears to suffering the blues.
He has been mysteriously quiet since returning from
the ‘Health spa’.
I became quite worried about him yesterday when I rode
out with two friends on all three horses.
I rode Persil, who purred along happily like a little
sports car, loving every minute of his big day out.
Anja rode The Phantom who, was appallingly badly behaved.
I should have learned by now NEVER to say anything about
the horse someone is about to ride; they (the horse)
will always do the opposite.
“He’s beautifully quiet, since I stopped
feeding him sweet feed”, I said happily as we started
out.
His ‘beautifully quiet’ behaviour lasted
until the first rolling hill, and was replaced with an
attack of stupidity, which only ended about half an hour
later when Jess (Phantom’s Other Mother) got on
him.
Jess had been riding Nibbler who was unbelievably quiet – for
him. I never thought I’d see the day when Nibbler
became the quietest horse to ride.
It just doesn’t make sense.
I asked Persil about it later. He nodded knowingly and
held my fingers in his lips. “Lovesick”,
he said, “he had a girlfriend but she’s not
returning his calls”.
March 18th
I took The Phantom out for a good fast ride to test his
stupidity levels.
There was no sign of them.
He was perfectly well behaved.
“You are the only one for me”, he sang happily
as we cantered along a large grass strip.
I rode him past a working bulldozer, and a road grader,
but he ignored them all. We joined another couple of horses
and had a bit of a race but he remained as calm as toast.
I’m now more certain than ever that there is more
going on at the end of the paddock every afternoon than just
eating the grass.
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