The Riot Diaries
May 21st
D. I. Zeuss is back.
The lounge was in turmoil when we got up this
morning and, as usual, Zeuss seemed to be in the middle of it.
The reason
became clear as I pulled the curtains back to reveal a large dead
hare, blocking the cat flap.
“Ahh,” said D. I. Zeuss, “I thought you might notice
that”.
I glared at him.
“There was an attempted Home Invasion,” he said importantly, “as
you no doubt noticed, the perpetrator has ‘limited mobility’”.
Sticky
snuffled into his paw.
“He is what you might call ‘Life Challenged’”,
said the Detective, washing behind one ear thoughtfully.
Flossom let
out a huge guffaw which she then tried to disguise as a cough.
“Otherwise known as ‘Quietus Haresuit’”, he continued much to the amusement of all the other cats who collapsed in a heap of giggles.
“Zeuss!” I yelled, he looked at me innocently as I tried to decide how best to extricate the poor hare from its wedged position half way in the cat flap.
“Neither Hare nor there really is it?” said Zeuss.
I grabbed the hare in one hand and the comedic detective round the scruff of his neck in the other and dumped them both outside.
“Thank you”, said Partly Bluett, who is an excessively
polite dog and had been waiting for this moment.
He held up a paw; “I think you’ll find that what
you have there is The Hare of the Dog”.
May 22nd
I’m really humming along at the GYM.
I can now talk for a full
half hour without any trouble at all.
According to the heart-rate monitor,
my heart rate goes up at the mention of child rearing and overpopulation
and goes down when I talk about the cats.
Mention business and the fact that my tax is due again,
and it stops altogether.
May 23rd
Brent is using his ‘MANS’ vacuum cleaner, which does the following...
*Makes a huge amount of noise
*Has a see-through compartment that allows you to watch a bunch of turbo powered jet propelled blades whirr around
*Looks and sounds like it is about to launch itself to the moon at any minute
*Has a bunch of different nozzles that make the man look like he is doing specialist stuff.
What it doesn’t do is actually suck up any dirt – which is the whole point, I thought, of a vacuum cleaner.
So while Brent wanders around pushing his ‘MANS’ vacuum cleaner, and looking very pleased with himself, I’m sitting here pretending to write ‘important business’ stuff, with an equally self-satisfied glow.
May 24th
I
went to a ‘BODY COMBAT’ class at the Gym this morning.
I don’t know what got into me.
On arrival I was bemused to see a bunch of seriously fit looking women kitting themselves up with hand bandages – which I guess would be handy if you broke your hand during class – you wouldn’t then have to stop to bandage it.
I didn’t have any hand bandages and I was beginning to think I should have worn my riding helmet, and perhaps the brightly coloured safety vest my husband brought home from work for me at Christmas.
Defying the laws of Fibromyalgia, I took the class and to my great surprise, despite the pain, enjoyed myself immensely. If I’m going to be in pain anyhow, I might as well be kicking and punching my way through it.
After a full hour of fast and furious fighting of gravity, I drove home felling extremely self righteous and pleased with myself. Wait till Brent hears about this, I thought.
I drove up the drive and went to get out of the car to find…I couldn’t.
May 25th
Brent took me shopping!
I’ve been waiting for
an event like this ever since we got married.
“I’m going to buy something really special” he
said, sounding suspiciously like his Mother.
He bought an electric power sander.
“You can use it too” he
said chirpily.
“Think of more as a turbo charged ‘macrodermabrasion
unit’ – for super smooth skin”.
May 26th
Persil and The Phantom appear to have been playing ‘Pimp My
Ride’ with Nibbler.
They heard about it from Zeuss who has been
dying to watch it on TV after hearing me chuck off about it to Brent.
“The choice (of Nibbler) was obvious”, said Persil, “we’ve
managed to turn a fat boring gelding, into a total Hustler”.
“Hustlerrrrr” repeated
The Phantom.
Both horses looked enormously pleased with themselves.
May 27th
Flossom burst in through the cat flap chirping loudly to gain everyone’s
attention.
She deposited a baby mouse at my feet. It was unharmed
so I popped it outside.
Flossy, obviously regarding her work as done, sprawled out under
the cat flap – all the better to prevent Zeuss from getting
in.
And come in he did, so fast, Flossom had no time to even get a
paw up to swat him. His fur was standing on end and his tail was
so puffed up it looked like it belonged to an arctic fox.
He bounced onto my knee and cleared his throat before announcing
that just outside was the “Mother of all Mice”, apparently
on the look out for a fat Queen in a cheap fur coat responsible for
the abduction of her baby daughter.
He looked pointedly at Flossom
who was beginning to look alarmed.
“Might I suggest YOU go and talk to her”,
he said.
Flossom managed to look affronted. “I’m NOT FAT” she said, “I have BIG FUR”, and then she disappeared into the bedroom and hid under the bed.
“Is that true Zeuss?” I asked.
He smirked, “Actually, no, but it got me in the cat flap”.