It's now approxiately ten hours since I dropped the boys off at the cattery, something I always find enormously stressful. I hadn't realised how much of that was the cats' obvious distress, first at the taxi, then at the sudden plunge into unknown surroundings. Normally I have no choice but to leave them cowering and miserable. But this time, they seemed to know where they were (about time, after five visits) and very quickly settled down. In fact, Frank started attempting to chew his way into the bag of Tim's special sensitive tummy food, and when I gave him a little snack of it even timid Tim emerged from hiding to steal some. This was a terrific relief to me, although let's face it, the 0.5 mg of Xanax didn't hurt either.
I then spent ninety minutes waiting for a taxi back from Annangrove. It arrived five minutes before the bus, so I pretended it had nothing to do with me and caught the 641 instead at a fraction of the cost. Ha ha.
I'm quite confused not to have the pudews constantly underfoot; I can leave doors open without naughty intruders, etc. I don't pine for them too much on our overseas jaunts, but they're part of our home and I miss them already.
In wholly unrelated news, Hamster's new hair > Rossy's horrid beard.
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