23 June 2014

The little old cat, blind and deaf as she is, had a touch of diarrhoea, to put it mildly. She succumbed to it in the dining room and most of downstairs in her gentle quiet way before she wandered upstairs - leaving a neat trail of footprints - while we were enjoying a most pleasant cup of tea outside before watering the garden. 
Things went on from there and soon I was on my knees washing the hall and the kitchen floors and basically every surface and by the time I got to the stairs I suddenly remembered the time when I sanded down the banisters and the steps and the smell of wood, which was quite some years ago now. 
Upstairs I could hear R talking on the phone to Nuala, who is also quite deaf now when she wants to: So, I hear you went walking down the East Pier? What was that? Someone stopped you? Oh, your walker got stuck on the bus? A Spanish student, you say? Ah, people are so nice. He kissed you? Well, aren't you the lucky girl. Sure, of course we'll have a grand party for your 100th. 
And so on.
Life.

3 comments:

  1. O the old animals. We love them and we despair of them and we clean up after them as we hope someone will do for us one day.

    XX Beth

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  2. Beautiful and soulful in every way.

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