Like most Brits we opted for a staycation this year. We had a gorgeous sojourn in Herefordshire that has some glorious landscapes and some rather fabulous trees that himself tried to hug. But as always it was lovely to be home. I'd missed my bed and I'd missed my cat monsters.
I've rarely been without a moggie in my life and I've adored each and every fish-breathed one of em. The current incumbents to the title, 'spoiled, self-absorbed princesses' are Frankie (the tightrope walker) and Madge (the leaper).
My monsters were obviously pleased to see us when we got back. Madge trotted from her nap on the sofa and yowled her halloos. This alerted Frankie and she clamoured over the Cornish hedge to say, 'it's disgraceful that you servants think you can go away'. Winding around our ankles they joined us for afternoon tea in the garden. Madge decided to bring along a mouse that she proceeded to crunch and chow down on as we tried to eat a bit of cake without vomiting at the horrendous noise.
It was clear my girls had missed us and were pleased to see the 24/7 service that caters to their every whim had been reinstated.
But it was during the night that they expressed their 'special' love at our return. Joyous to be back in my bed, I soon dozed off as I lay snuggled up on my side. I awoke to a frantic purring from Frankie who had managed to mind-control me into sleeping on my back so she could spread herself on my chest. Now I love the sound of a cat's purr. It's usually a happy content sort of sound, but Frankie has a nose thing...she has the purr of an unfit, middle-aged jogger forced to go on a marathon with a severe head cold. It's all uneven and jagged breathing via one nostril. I ousted her from my chest and turned over to fall asleep again.
I next awoke to Frankie voodooing me until I'm flat on my back again with her frantically purring in my face. I felt, at this point, that there was going to be a level of inevitability about it all so I managed to doze off again laying on my back.
Next up is Madge. She gets on the bed at some point and we're both awakened by her heaving. Unlike Frankie she doesn't hurl often so has the look of bewildered horror on her face at her bodies' defection. I get her off the bed quick smart. Once on the floor she circumnavigates the bed a few times trying to cough up a kidney, lung and maybe her spleen. It was a blessed relief when she managed to keep it down.
By this time himself was not best pleased and chuntered away, but we manage to doze off again. Then along comes Frankie. This time she's chirruping her 'hellos' as she walks up my side to my face. I ignore her. Then comes rapid movement and at first I assume its Madge and Frankie battling it out for the prime spot on the bed. Oh, if only it were. It doesn't sound right, so I grab my reading specs and turn on the light.
Frankie has thoughtfully brought a live mouse onto the bed and was chasing it around the duvet. I leapt out of bed and started giggling (as I am won't to do when I'm freaking out). It was a scene that was a cross between Tom and Jerry and a piece of performance art. As art it may have been a metaphor for 'love and loss', but it also could have been a metaphor for 'middle-aged woman on the edge'. Only an art critic would know. So I dislodged the cat and mouse from the bed whilst laughing hysterically and wearing glasses that I can only see blurred images though. We ran down the stairs, mouse, cat and me in procession. The convoy caught up in the conservatory and, as I have some experience in rodent wrangling, I scooped up the mouse in the 'mouse towel' and headed for the outside and mouse freedom. I'd like to say I was decently dressed, but I wasn't. At 4.30am I just didn't care.
When I made is back to bed himself muttered words along the line of,' my lovely wife, your beautiful nature is such that those angelic felines are rather spoiled... maybe you should desist and set boundaries my best beloved'.
One can but sympathise, but as I pointed out Madge kept her food down and Frankie was so pleased to see us that she brought us a new pet. Hell, she might have even put a gift tag on the mouse which became lost in the ensuing struggle, we'll never know!