The other night when Nelly was writing this post we got chatting about her obsession for dead animals. I reckoned I must have inherited this desire as I recall, when I was a youngster, taking great pleasure in retrieving any dead mouse or shrew the cat brought back. I liked to give them a proper burial. Mum was wondering was it just a thing children do. I said it must have been as I remembered big sister Z being most appalled when she saw a dead mouse, in a clear plastic freezer bag, sitting on the kitchen table one morning before school. Obviously I hadn't time to bury it before school and was keeping it in the freezer bag for later when I got home. Hey, that's what wee sisters are for. Just like big sisters are for making you believe that bears live in the woods.
We called out to see baby M (not Z or D, just baby M!) after work tonight. I got to have a nice cuddle with Martha. The first proper one in fact. I think this is because I'm not so scared of breaking her now. And she didn't seem so grumpy about being cuddled. She normally cries when placed in my arms. I don't know if it's just coincidence or if she actually hates me.
Fish Face Freddy is officially the fattest cat in Ireland and is now on a part-time diet. I say part-time because if it's Bert feeding him he forgets. All you gotta do is look at his massive bulging gut to remember that he's too damn fat and needs to be on a diet. Also, the kitty hardnuts are no longer accessible on a self service basis. And no more Freddy finishing off the remains of Holly's dinner. Fat bastard!
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