I have been dating my girlfriend for three years, and I am mostly sure that this is the woman I will marry, except for one thing. The only thing we have any real disagreements about is our cat. She thinks it is just fine to kiss it right on the nose, repeatedly. She basically kisses it, and makes this “om nom nom” noise while doing so. I think it’s gross, and she thinks my reaction is funny. I honestly feel ill when she does this, and can’t stand the thought of kissing her afterward unless she washes up first. She thinks that makes me a loon. And yet, I can’t help the ick factor. She has begun to wonder why we aren’t engaged yet, and while it is quite true that I don’t want to deal with wedding plans until I am done with grad school, the really big reason to me is I can’t decide if this is a deal-breaker, or if I am being overly squeamish. So, please tell me, am I overreacting, or is she just being gross? Not Sure

Dear NS

I understand your concern. When kissing one’s pets on the nose, the sound one makes should not be “om nom nom” but “num, num, nuu.” Everyone knows that.This is no deal-breaker but one of life’s little quirks that requires partners to indulge each other. Also if you dont indulge the cat, it could get frickin freezing in here. Hope this helps.

EV

Many, many Rogue sacrifices in BWL helped this achievement too. Darn you MC!

So I was running around, doing my daily pet trainer battles, when my guildie Pawnfu asked which pet(s) I still needed for the Raiding with Leashes achievement.  I have had zero luck with the Death Talon Whelpguard dropping, and I told him it was the only I was missing.

So he mailed it to me!  Apparently another dropped while he was there earlier!

So I hearthed back to the Shrine and opened my mail!

Yay!  Achievement!

And now, I have Mr. Bigglesworth, who is getting leveled right away, because Howling Blast is a most awesome ability.  If I pair him Hugo, my Tranquil Mechanical Yeti, and his Call Blizzard… ooooooh!  So I am thinking Mr. Biggleworth, Hugo, and my Kun-Lai Runt, George [who has Deep Freeze (100% chance to stun when Chilled) + Takedown (double damage when Stunned)]

Thank you, Pawnfu! 

~ Effy

Creepiest cat ever

As for me, it seems that Grandfather Winter came early this year because Mr Bigglesworth is already ticked off my present list. Although in this particular shot he does seem to be trying to distance himself from a tastefully dressed levitating carol singing Gnome, can’t imagine why.

*Yes I’m afraid of my Mother and with good reason I assure you. She makes Sprout’s PvP bloodlust look like a lazy afternoon picnic.

Winter Veil is around the corner and it’s time to sit upon Greatfather Winter’s lap and answer the important question, “What do you want for Winter Veil?” Is it that expensive grand expedition yak? a nice transmog custom outfit? or a Red Ryder carbine-action, two hundred shot Range Model air rifle with a compass in the stock?

What is on your Winter Veil wishlist?

suggested by Noahdeer.

Having been both a good little Gnome and a good hard working girl, I’d like my stocking to divulge the following this Winter Veil.

1. Mr Bigglesworth. As a little girl, I had my own pet cemetery moments (at least in the sense of wishing that the dead didn’t have to stay dead) and even now I still in my deepest dreams find myself wishing for undead pets. Since I suspect my childhood dog, his bones bleached white isn’t going to come tapping down the corridor, I’ll take Mr Bigglesworth as a substitute.
2. An end to Dailies. Yes I get the whole “don’t do them” argument but they are there sitting in quest logs and with reputation bars not maxed laughing at me.
3. More time to actually play. What with my commute and with my work load, time outside work not spent asleep is remarkably precious right now. At this time of year especially, there are so many other demands on those fleeting moments that I’m struggling to find any time at all in Azeroth.
4. This one basically leads on from 3. Ideally if every thing goes according to plan, in the new year, we’ll smash the nasty commute into little pieces which then will hopefully allow me much more time to do other things like finish the 100 plus drafts sitting waiting to be finalized, to possibly find a guild to do some raiding with and to complete all the other little projects sitting half done, like my Tree of Life cushion.
5. Come up with a Winter transmogrification for Sprout who is still wearing a semi matching set of PvP and PvE gear all collected from MoP and held together by a tabard of all things.

Of course I wouldn’t say no to “Peace on Azeroth and Goodwill to all Gnomes” either. Garrosh’s bloody and battered head in my stocking would be greatly appreciated too.

Oh Rlyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!

Our final day on Ko Phi Phi Don had arrived. We would be leaving the following morning but to where? We still had no idea. All we knew was that ‘The Full Moon Party’ on the island of Koh Phangan was not due to take place for another two weeks so we needed to decide on a new destination in the meantime. I had walked by a travel agent the day before (actually, it was really just a small wooden shack with a few pictures printed from Microsoft Paint gummed to the wall) but, it had a desk, and in my eyes, if you’ve got a desk, I’m sold. You could be selling an entire Ethiopian tribes worth of teeth. It doesn’t matter. If there’s a desk, I’ll buy all your stock.

“Even my arse gulped down and gargled a few mouthfuls of chlorinated water”

The shadowed figure began to prophesise again. “We know exactly where to send you, oh yes we do”, it said. “There is an island not far from here. It can be reached by boat. Some call it………….” (insert ungodly long pause) “Koh Lanta”. “Some?”, I thought. “I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s actually called. Unless Magellan was wrong and our world maps are a farse”. Intrigued by this new found information, I leaned forward across the desk to hear some more. “Some say the parties are great”, the voice continued. “Others return having witnessed the most golden sand they have ever seen”. “Golden sand? Amazing parties? How had The Lonely Planet forgotten to print this?”. I sat back and pondered this thought for a while. “Are you sure about this?, I replied. “You’re not mixing it up with another island?”. “Oh no dear friend”, the voice replied. “The legends are true. The island exists. Is very cheap too”. That was all I needed to hear. “SOLD!!”, I said as I placed my wallet on the desk. The hand reached forward and pulled it into the darkness and I looked up to see a big fat grin gleaming at me in the sunlight.

I don't always attribute my creation to another man, but when I do, it's to my father. Happy Father's Day! (Photo courtesy of Van Yang, photographer/director extraordinaire)

In the spirit of Father’s Day – “I don’t always attribute my creation to another man, but when I do, it’s to my father. Happy Father’s Day! Stay thirsty my friends.”

So what else has been up?

Things have been going well. I’m staying busy. Currently I’ve been working on 2 productions – one is a “wei dian ying” (form Chinese it translates to ‘ Micro Film’) / short film- we got some quality cast and people involved. We already filmed everything (minus some pick ups) and now we are in the editing stage. The second production is a China feature film with a well-known cast and line up of producers. It’s my first time on the production team for a feature film, but it is turning out to be a great learning experience. I’ll keep a little mystery on both projects for now, but will def keep u all posted.

Let’s see.. I went to Taiwan recently for a quick trip. I was originally going to go to Thailand, which I was really looking forward to… I was going to train Muay Thai, eat mangos on the beach, and hang out with my buddy in Phuket, but since I started on this co-production I couldn’t be away from China for that long.. thus I went to Taiwan for a few days. Taiwan was great fun as usual. Hung out with my friends, ate, drank, and worked out. Oh.. and also did a photoshoot. Here’s one of the pictures.

Photo Courtesy of Chloe Chou

Since I got back from Taiwan, I’ve also been working on a couple things for Adidas. Some really exciting fun stuff that I’m hoping to share as it comes out.

So I’d say work wise I’ve been pretty busy. I also had to miss some classes at Beijing Film Academy due to starting pre-production on the China feature film… but I had done my scenes and performed for the teachers already and told them that I would be working on this project so they understood. I really enjoyed the film academy and feel like I learned a good deal. All my classmates are doing a performance this week – on the 22nd. Also, another of my classmates (Allie Chen) took off from classes early too – She filmed a feature film in China last year and it’s coming out this month. Excited for her. Check out the trailer on Tudou – http://www.tudou.com/programs/view/_KaLEeWa39M/?fr=rec1&FR=LIAN

On Living

I’ve found a less expensive apartment a little further, but not too far from Sanlitun. I’m going to be moving out at the end of the month. I think I can make this my way station for Asia. I definitely plan to take that trip to Thailand at some point as well as visit a few other places. Also I plan to spend more time in the US next year as well as Taiwan.

On Eating

Still going strong on being vegetarian. It’s been over 2 months now. Not really a problem for me. Very occasionally I’ll see a dish or some bbq item that looks really appetizing, but overall I don’t feel any loss from not eating meat. Originally my challenge to myself was to go 1 month without eating meat. I’ve accomplished double that.. so I think I’ve had a good taste of vegetarian living. I think it is a healthy lifestyle, but I don’t think I will stay a strict vegetarian forever. I don’t know when exactly will be the momentous occasion where I decide to break my meat-sober record, but I think maybe end of the month or if I travel out of Beijing next month I will go back to eating seafood and poultry on occasion. Until now I’m still purely on veggies, but we’ll see. I think I’m okay with a balance. I’ve definitely learned that I don’t “need” meat to have a complete and healthy meal. I used to feel like a meal was incomplete without meat, but now I can be completely satisfied without it. In a way it’s another way of freeing myself from a type of mental constraint.

On Startups

It’s really been a while since I’ve been in start up business mode. Since I moved out to Beijing to work for Jet, I’ve really put my business plans on hold or autopilot. Well.. I’m starting to get back in the pilot’s seat. I wouldn’t say I’m fully back on this yet (because there are still things I want to do in acting/entertainment) but definitely the itch is back and I think ultimately the life of an entrepreneur is a very ideal and optimal lifestyle.

On Film and Television

I guess I’ve already touched upon this area above with mentioning that I’m working on a few productions (movie, short, and commercial)… but as for completed movies – Two movies I worked on: Feng Xiaogang’s Remembering 1942 and Yong Chun Xiao Long (Young Bruce Lee-esque / Karate Kid type / Wing Chun movie) should come out towards the end of the year. I look forward to their big screen release. Also a China TV show I acted and did stunt work in called “Chuang Guan Dong Qian Zuan” (translates to ‘Journey to the Northeast, Prequel) is starting to air. I don’t really watch much TV in China (nor do I own a TV here) but, the show is supposedly quite popular and is in its third season. There’s lots of action. There is both kung fu style martial arts as well as war style military battles involving the Russians and the Japanese.

I felt like I’ve almost done a recap of the year… haha but no.. there’s plenty more. Anyways, it’s time to head out. This is my update for now. Ciao!

We’re the Robins Air Force Base Library, located in Building 905 on – where else? – Robins Air Force Base, in Warner Robins, Georgia. You are currently reading our blog, and you can find our hours of operations here. We have over 52,000 items in our collection, including books, audiobooks, magazines, newspapers, DVDs, research databases, foreign language help, and downloadable materials. We specialize in knowledge and entertainment, and lots and lots of both.

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And besides:

Our turn ons include: CONTESTS!

Okay, that’s us. And now we would like to know a little about you…

And what better way to do that then a survey. A survey and a CONTEST. Prize: A $20 gift card from Best Buy. All you have to do is fill out the 50 questions below (which are short, simple, and easy, and will honestly take you very little time at all), and email us the answers at:

robinsbaselibrary@gmail.com.

It could not be any simpler than that, could it?

Well, we’re going to find out. But, without further ado, the questions…

01. How often do you use the library on base?

02. Would you say that you check out books and/or movies from the library on base more than any other service that we provide?

03. Would you say that you come in to enjoy our comfy chairs and couches and relax for a few moments glancing at one of our magazine subscriptions more so than any other service that we provide?

04. Or, would you say that you use our computers more than any other service that we provide?

05. Please give yourself an extra 10 points if you’re filling out this survey while using one of our computers right now.

06. How many books would you read in a given year? We’re talking about fiction and non-fiction, including anthologies or short story collections.

07. How many books would you say that you claim to read to strangers to look smarter? (It’s cool, we all do it.)

Edited to add: The specific wording of this question has proved problematic for some of our patrons taking this quiz. We meant to ask how many books have you told strangers that you read in order to look smarter and/or cooler. We didn’t mean to ask how many books have you physically read to a person who is a stranger to you. Although, if you have an answer to that question, we’d

08. Do you believe in love at first sight?

09. What is your favorite novel?

10. What is your favorite film adaptation of a novel?

11. What was the last movie that you saw in a movie theater?

12. Would you say that mankind in inherently good or evil, or neither and it doesn’t really matter?

13. If there was an apartment building or an office building that actually had a 13th floor, and your apartment or office was one of those un/lucky enough to be on that 13th floor, would you be okay with that?

14. The quick brown fox jumps over the _________?

15. Who is your favorite author?

16. Why?

17. What is the last book that you ever read by that author?

18. What is your favorite Michael Crichton book and/or movie?

19. What is your favorite Stephen King book and/or movie?

20. When was the last time a machine or a piece of technology really let you down?

21. Have you ever read any books by James Patterson?

22. Did you know that James Patterson has written or “written” (his name appears along side that of a co-author on the cover, but the co-author may or may not have done the actual “writing” contained within the book) books in the adult fiction, adult non-fiction areas, as well as fiction and non-fiction for young adults?

23. If you answered “Yes” to both questions #21 and possibly #22 as well, then how many books by James Patterson have you read?

24. How many of those books, if you don’t mind us asking, were checked out from the Robins AFB Library?

25. Why have you read so many James Patterson books?

26. The same question as question #21, but with Clive Cussler instead of James Patterson.

27. We have a puzzle set out in the library for our patrons to come and help us put together. Once completed, the puzzle will reveal itself to be a depiction of a famous work of art by a famous post-Impressionist artist. If you wanted to tell us the name of that work of art or the name of the artist, that would be great, but what we really want to know is: What is the one and only work of art that this artist sold in their lifetime?

28. Name one or more actors who have portrayed that artist in film or television.

29. Referring back to question #03, you did know that we have comfy chairs and couches, right?

30. Referring back to question #28, you did know that we have a wide variety of magazine subscriptions for you to peruse through, right?

31. If you win this contest, do you want the $20 gift card that is listed above as the prize?

32. Or, for your prize awarded for your hard work, would you rather instead win the chance to take a picture with your favorite library worker?

33. It’s a tempting offer, isn’t it?

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40. This is a funny picture:

Please write a funny caption for that picture.

41. We respectfully request that you do not fail to notice that that dog is wearing a top hat and a monocle, and is smoking a pipe. This is not a question.

But bonus points will be awarded if you can tell us what an appropriately funny name would be for this dog.

Further bonus points will be awarded if the name you choose starts with either Mr. or Mrs. i.e. “Mr. Bigglesworth.” Please do not submit “Mr. Bigglesworth” as your answer for this question.

42. What is, according to Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, the meaning of life? Or, put more simply, what is the answer to “the Ultimate Question to Life, the Universe, and Everything?”

43. What is a group of crows known as?

44. What is a group of frogs known as?

45. What is a group of unicorns known as?

46. Animals are not allowed to use human language in China. Seriously. It’s against the rules. This rule caused what famous book by a famous author to be banned in China?

Hint: This book is widely considered to be a work for children. You’ve seen movies made of it, some live action and some animated. Songs have been written about this book.

47. Other than the Robins AFB Library, what other FSS/Services facilities would you say that you frequent the most on Robins Air Force Base?

Also, check out the new FSS website: http://www.robinsfss.com

48. What was the last book you read that you’d really recommend to a stranger if you had to, or if you were asked to in a survey much like this one?

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50. Make up a question and give us the answer. We’re not so concerned with the question, but we’d really like to know the answer…

Okay, that’s our survey! And again, all you have to do to enter our contest is to answer these questions, #s 1 thru 50, and email those answers to us at robinsbaselibrary@gmail.com. Please put some variation of “Survey” or “Survey Answers” or “CONTEST!” in the subject line. The contest closes on 04/01/12 at midnight, and we’ll announce the winners the following week.

Wait, did that say “winners” and not just “winner” on it? That’s right, it did. Not only will we be giving out our award to the person who gets the most answers right, but we’ll also pick a random entry, or perhaps the person who’s answers amuse us the most, and make them a winner too. Gotta love those odds.

When you send us your questions, please include your name, your email address (of course), and possibly your phone number. And your phone number, especially if you don’t check your email that often. Please be at least 16 years old, or older, or have a parent or guardian’s permission to participate (regardless of how old you are). If you win, we ask that you please come in and pick up your prize and let us take a picture of you to share with the world here on our blog, and perhaps interview you about how you got to be so smart.

It appears Newton Leroy Gingrich gave a veiled threat of such a possibility in his “concession” speech after being absolutely pummeled by Willard Mittens Romney in Florida (Newt lost by 14 points). During the speech there appeared to be, what the Huffington Post is reporting as “strains of what could be an independent, third-party run for the White House if he doesn’t get the Republican nomination”.

Newton’s beginning to sound more and more like a B-movie villain monologuing on how he’s henceforth not running a “Republican campaign but a people’s campaign” – and raising, according to Huffington, “the specter, at least rhetorically, that his vision of his role in American history is too large and personal to be contained by a mere political party”. If really wants to pull this off though he needs to buy a really ugly hairless Sphinx cat and call it Mr. Bigglesworth. Wearing the silver jump suit is of course optional.

But can Dr Strangepuff really pull off a third party victory? Well, let me think … (try to stop laughing hysterically … wipe tears from eyes …) no. If Teddy Roosevelt couldn’t do it this overinflated egotistical caricature of a human being certainly won’t be able to; what he will do is siphon off the uber-conservative cracker vote from Mittens, and propel President Obama to the largest landslide victory since Reagan.

To his crowd of ardent followers Newt pledged in an allusion to the Founding Fathers and the Declaration of Independence, “If I become your president, I pledge to you my life, my fortune and my sacred honor.”

Any candidate should know better than to pledge things they either have no intention of giving or lack; Newton has no intention of ever putting his life on the line, this is all about claiming a foot note in history next to Teddy and Ross Perot; he’s also certainly not going to part with his fortune; lastly, it’s a pie crust promise to pledge honor when you possess none.

There’s a very strong chance Gingrich will run as an independent because he has to leave the 2012 stage as something more than the right-wing nut job buffoon who got his clock cleaned by the likes of Romney, and it’s much better to go down as the independent candidate in the general election than the second banana in the GOTP primary, especially if you drag Mittens down with you. Yes, he’s that mean, and that egotistical.

Oh, you should probably be prepared for more allusions of Newt being today’s William Wallace, George Washington and Robert E. Lee.

(Oh, yeah. And I attached a picture to nearly every tweet – always one of the two from yesterday’s post, unless I included a different one here.)

So, here are today’s Naked Mole Rat tweets … in chronological order:

I plan to use this yucky fella in several tweets today until he scores us some retweets. Think he’s up to the task?

He & Mr. Bigglesworth could co-star in the new nauseating version of ‘Tom & Jerry.’

Naked Mole Rats – It’s like holding a warm ziploc of tiny bones.

The only two food sources I find for Naked Mole Rats are tubers & their own feces. As if their lives weren’t sad enough.

Throngs of shoppers are out killing themselves for Black Friday. I’m home googling facts about Naked Mole Rats. I ask you – Who’s the idiot?

Eating feces not enough? Naked Mole Rats also ‘wear’ it as a means of identifying other members of the same colony.

I think HUMAN gangs should be required to adhere to the same ritual.

WAY boring until 1:30 when it shifts gears to play the most AWESOME Naked Mole Rat anthem you’ve ever heard. (This video can be found at the end of this post.)

Everyone’s tweeting about Naked Mole Rats with ODNT. Don’t you think that’s some information I would like to know? I like Naked Mole Rats.

This is Eric’s pet & the MAIN reason he gave Bill the creeps. Still, they both got invited to the taco party.

Naked Mole Rats look an awful lot like raw sausage. Which is now officially dead to me as a food choice.

Surely, I’m not the only one who can see their resemblance to sausage? And, no! This is NOT a picture of sausage!)

As promised, the youtube video with the Naked Mole Rat Anthem is below. Please remember that this catchy blues tune doesn’t begin until 1:30. The content before that will very likely lull you into a coma. Also, don’t blame me if you suddenly find yourselves singing this haunting melody in the shower, the car or even on the job. Personally, I’m saving it for my daughter’s wedding dance. If she were marrying today at age 9, she’d completely agree. We’ll see what happens in the future. Crossing fingers …

Okay. I think I am finally done with these icky little guys.

Thanks for listening while I got it all out of my system.

Two thousand people have signed up to be frozen after death, in the hope medical science will one day revive them. (WIRED UK 09/11 p129)

This is 2000 people that the church have catastrophically let down.

It may not be a huge number considering the world is now estimated to have a population of over 7 billion but these people must have absolutely no idea about the future that God wants for them, an eternal future with him. If nothing else, at approx £50’000 a pop, their investment could have gone to better use.

It’s interesting that the Terasem Movement, Melbourne Beach, Florida claims to be a charity that ‘teaches the advantages of extending life’, perhaps churches should use that in their vision or mission statements?

The Alcor Life extension Foundation website states that ‘The intent and practice of cryonics are frequently misreported by news media. We invite you to explore this site and reach your own conclusions’, I think we need to let people explore the church on their own terms too.

questions to consider

• what’s your theological viewpoint on cryogenic freezing?
• what does your church do to meet people in the community who might think this is a good idea?
• what if something weird happens like it did to Mr. Bigglesworth?

Pete Doherty – because I love him

Peter Doherty – in case I missed anything with just ‘Pete Doherty’ in the search box. Because I love him. Because I am going to see him later!

Where is Osama Bin Ladens Body? – seriously, where is it? I want to know. I heard he was dead, then I heard the ridiculous news that his body had been chucked over-board at sea! I really want his severed head placed on a spike over Tower Bridge, I feel cheated that this is no longer an option.

Busted – I felt nostalgic. I used to think they were great. I have them on my ipod and still enjoy their songs!

Roo B***** – this is my brother. He will shortly be leaving university and I was checking to see if the internet held anything dodgy about him that would wreck his job interview chances. There wasn’t.

Messy Bedrooms (Images) – I needed a picture for my last blog post

Grooms Jobs -  my friend needs a new member of staff and is freaking out. Why is it so hard to find an employable person? The job is for an equine groom; tasks include mucking out stables, bringing horses in from the field, changing their rugs, making up feeds, turning horses out and brushing them. She pays well. You would not believe how difficult it is to find someone to do this.

Google Logo (Images) – for this post. Google loves itself. There are thousands of images for Google, including quite a few of Google and Dr Evil from the Austin Powers movies. Why? I once went to a James Bond themed party dressed as Dr No’s cat. I was called Mr Bigglesworth all night, even though Mr Bigglesworth is actually Dr Evils cat.

Three Women: AKA bridge partners:

1. Who spends most of her day on the phone with her neighbor across the street talking about the rest of us…, Mildred.

2. Our plastic surgery dictionary…. Ruby… (Ex stripper who married the club-owner, divorced him for her first plastic surgeon), she’s had five kids, six tummy tucks, 3 breast augmentations, Jose the Gardner, one nose job, Pierre the Caterer, 2 cheek implants, Dennis the tennis pro,  a chin, Bob the Golf Pro, and laser hair- removal all over her body ( she makes Mr. Bigglesworth , Dr. Evil’s Cat, look Hairy).

3. Dolores, Happy Homemaker (x-prom queen), room mother, sagging breast, who currently has an appointment with Ruby’s hubby (Dr. Tips) to fix them.

So When I arrived “The Intruder” looked miffed she’d be out of a bridge match and suggested we get another group of four women to join in …. “We could rotate tables, and play matches against each other!” ….. To which I replied, “WHY?”

YES, we’re a bunch of bitches,  and proud of it!

©copyright, 2009, Confessions of a Mad Country Club Housewife, all rights reserved.            ©countryclubhousewife, “Confessions of a Mad Country Club Housewife” and http://www.countryclubhousewife.com, 2009.Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Countryclubhousewife and Confessions of a Mad Country Club Housewife with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Another couple of things are the models found. One of King Terenas, Arthas’ father, which I’m sure excites all of the lore freaks.. I think I’ve become one of those. As well as the model of Bigglesworth’s Ghost! This excites me as a pet collector because it points towards Kelthuzad… more hints of Lil KT!

Anyway, finally I will mention the weapon models. I’m only going to link bows, crossbows and guns. Personally, I don’t like the crossbow or the gun model, they both look a little boring in my opinion and I hope the bow is either really awesome, or they change the models..

If only to get the special emote from KT, and make the Hunter jealous that I got it first this time. Silly stuff like this is why I like this game. If only I was an Undead, I could eat it too.

Ok, not quite.  But she’s really short.  I took a couple of before pictures in the morning.  Look how cute they are together.  Not sure how Spice could stand the smell of Lola, but whatev.

Awww…so cute.  But it was 10 a.m. and time for their morning nap.

Lord forbid I get between them and a nap.

So anyway, I took Lola to the groomer, the same place I went before but this time there was a different groomer.  She warned me she would have to go very, very short – where the mat began about 1/4 of an inch from her skin.  Apparently, she was one entire mat.  Now, I don’t know what Diane used to do, but I would routinely bring Lola to her in this kind of fur and Diane would deliver a dog with fur still on her.  I was a bit peeved that this girl didn’t seem to want to try to leave fur on but I know this is the standard response from EVERY groomer.  I left feeling like the time has finally come for me to learn how to trim Lola myself.  Maybe it will be easier this time – she’s been to the groomer enough that she’s well behaved and if she’s shorn to skin, at least I should have a fresh canvas to start from.  Now I just need to turn to my favorite resource, Google, and figure out how to trim a poodle.

I came back two hours later and peered through the window – the gal mouthed that she needed 10 more minutes.  So I waited and came back.  She met me outside and the gal was trying not to cry!  Lola was in one piece (or so I thought) and didn’t seem traumatized, so what gives?

The damn Licky-Dog licked when she shouldn’t have licked.  The gal was terribly apologetic and I suspect she was rushing because she was backed up, but the result was that Lola licked when she was clipping near her face and she nicked Lola’s tongue.

Of course, it’s like 90 degrees outside and combined with the activity of grooming, Lola’s panting like crazy and salivating like mad which is making her tongue bleed like a son of a bitch.  And I’m wearing a cute skirt.  But I pulled it together and told the girl it was going to be fine, told her how tough Lola was, and not to worry.  I mean, I know how Lola is so licky, I can easily see how that could happen.  And Lola is tough.  Aside from all the blood, she was fine.  She wasn’t even scrambling for me.

So I toss Lola in the Pathfinder and tell her to stay the hell on her side.  I mean, she’s still living, no need to get blood on my skirt.  Then I put every air vent on her to get her to cool down and stop panting/bleeding, and I race off to the vet as it’s almost 5 p.m. on a Friday.

My first thought was “there is no way I’m going to get Lola to gargle with warm salt water” followed by “how do I hold her tongue still while I sprinkle Wound Powder on it?”.  Time to seek medical attention.  When I got to the office, the Vet Nurse looked at it, made the same gross face I did, and said we’d have to ask the vet.

Since the vet’s office is less than 4 blocks from home, I called Tom and he came to wait with us, which was really great because my arm was tired of holding the ugly mutt.  But the vet was really nice and took a look and said that she recommended leaving it alone!!  Which was what we wanted to hear because stitching was going to be expensive and I would imagine uncomfortable for the dog.  The vet said that she’s seen cows who’ve cut their tongue and it actually heals and grows back together.  She said that Lola wouldn’t be impaired eating or drinking or doing any of her routine stuff, it wouldn’t get infected, and eventually her forked tongue would grow back together.  And in the time it took to see her, the bleeding had slowed greatly, so I was happy.

It’s only fitting that Lola is now marked by the Devil, complete with a forked tounge to go with her black skin, don’t you think?

Come on, that’s still kinda gross, don’t you think?  And I’m having a really tough time because the rest of the dog is so ugly at the moment.

She has no eyebrows!  Lola completely loses her essence when she doesn’t have eyebrows to express herself with.  But the flip side is she’s much, much cooler without any fur on.  I did ask Tom if it was too warm to put one of her cute sweaters on just so I don’t have to look at this hot mess.  He said yes.  See, he does look out for her.

Friday was not the day I expected, and I have to say, a trip to the groomer followed by a trip to the vet wasn’t exactly in Lola’s plans either.  But she’s one tough cookie.  Now if she’d just keep her mouth closed so I wouldn’t get so skeeved out.  Thanks.

How do you make a dog’s pooh hard again?

Click your heels together three times whilst saying: ‘There’s no pooh like hard pooh. There’s no pooh like hard pooh.’ and scrunching your eyes together in a Judy Garland type way.

Can I ask why you would want your dog’s pooh to be hard again? Surely once its out it’s best to just ignore it and not to try and do anything with it.  You don’t want to go blind after all.  I hear that’s what happened to the great blues musician Ray Charles.  He tried to make his dog’s pooh hard again and then had to spend the rest of his life singing sad songs about how he’d gone blind.  And Stevie Wonder.  Just think, without dog pooh we’d never have had: ‘I just called to say I love you.’  Damn dogs.

Thing to make from a napkin.

Well, last week I showed you how to make Ray Mears from a napkin, which was quite time consuming let me tell you, but I suppose if you’re not satisfied with a major survivalist celebrity I could give you a list of other things to make from a napkin.  I will start with the easiest and work up from there:

1. A scrunched up bit of linen with stains on it. (A classic, and my particular favourite)
2. A hat/boat shape.  Paper napkins are best for this.  You can wear the hat.  You cannot sail the boat.
3. A Radish (you will need an elastic band for this)
4. A scaled down version of Des Lynam (BBC version, not ITV.  Do not attempt a life sized model of Des.  It’s too much.)
5. The Reichenbach Falls (should not be attempted without the aid of a safety net. A hair net will do at a push)

Face rash from serial killer.

If that’s all you came away with I should count your lucky stars and stop moaning about it, unless the next part of the line was going to be, ‘and he killed me’, but you couldn’t type that due to being dead.  Face rash is one of the side-effects of hanging out with serial killers.  It does mention it in the NHS Pamphlet; ‘Serial Killers – The Facts’.  Other side-effects include; hearing loss, anaemia, atheletes foot and having no head.

Who is that crazy lady in Glenfield Co-op?

That will probably be me. I’m not as mad as I look.  It’s the side effects of having three children permanently pressed to my bosom (see the NHS pamphlet; ‘Having three children – The Facts), and the fact that I forget what I came in for because I spend my whole time looking for transvestite aliens doing close harmony singing with Amy Winehouse and Celine Dion.  It’s exhausting.  And, I often forget to brush my hair, which never helps.

How to build a gnome trap.

• Take a wind chime.
• Cut the chimes off and put them away in case you ever need them again to make industrial sized pea shooters.
• Tie bits of bacon and silver christmas baubles to the de-chimed strings.  It’s a well known fact that gnomes cannot resist strips of cured pig and shiny things.  The two things together act like a siren song on the average garden gnome.
• Hang the gnome chimes from a lowish branch.
• Under the branch dig a bucket sized hole.
• Fill the whole with a bucket full of warm water and Matey (Gnomes are paralysed by the all over application of such bath time treats).  If you haven’t got Matey, Radox will do.
• Place a small log in front of the bucket in the direction from which you believe the gnomes will be approaching.
• Wait in the bush with a torch.
• The gnome will come sniffing along like a bloodhound picking up the scent.  They will spy the bacon, become entranced by the shiny baubles and walk towards the trap like one in a daze.  They will be so busy staring at the baubles that they will forget to check the ground in their usual stealthy manner, thus prompting them to trip over the log.
• They may try to grab the bacon as they fall, but thanks to its greasy qualities it will merely slip through their fingers as they plummet into the bucket, whereupon they will be temporarily paralysed by the soothing Matey action.
• Voila.  One clean gnome.

Why does Katy wee in the garden?

You do something once in 1978 in a moment of mad experimentation and nobody ever bloody forgets do they?

Can you eat cats?

You can eat anything you like lovey, as long as you don’t want me to cook it for you.  I have enough trouble trying to get my children to try cherry tomatoes without launching into the world of feline culinary experiments.  I would suggest that if you’re going to try it, the short haired versions would be easier than the long hairs.  Ideally you’d be looking for a Mr. Bigglesworth style cat.  Then you’d just have to trim the ears a bit.  You don’t want to get a hair ball.  Although if you did, the phrase: ‘Serves you right for trying to eat a cat.’ would spring to mind.  I might not say it, because I can be polite when I want to be, but I’d definitely be thinking about it.

Timotei advert with monkey.

Are you sure that you aren’t mixing this up with the Typhoo Tea adverts? Either that or you think a monkey is a foxy looking woman with long blonde hair, floating down a Welsh river in a coracle.  I don’t think monkeys use Timotei to be honest.  I hate to be the one to burst your bubble, but I know it always gave me dandruff.  God knows what it would do to premium monkey fur.  Every time they went to swing upside down in a tree to show off, all the monkeys on the ground would be drowned in an avalanche of druff.  Nope.  You’ve definitely got your wires crossed somewhere.

What to do about hideous wardrobes?

If you’re my dad you paint them grey and pretend you’ve always loved them because you’re too lazy to chop them down and buy some new ones.  That’s the method he’s been using since 1982 and he’s not about to change now.  My mother simply wears glasses in which the prescription is about fifteen years out of date.  This solves the problem because she’s not able to see them.  Unfortunately she’s not able to see anything else either, which may explain her somewhat erratic driving, and her penchant for trying to get into other people’s cars thinking that they are hers.  Other things you can do include:

• Disguising them as a troupe of somnabulent penguins.
• Turning them into an attractive water feature using pebbles and a hose pipe.
• Chopping them up with an axe, chopping up one of your family members with an axe, ringing the police and the insurance company and trying to get new wardrobes and a nicer family all at the same time.
• Living inside the wardrobes, so you don’t have to look at them from the outside very often.

Where does Ray Mears get his socks?

He used to swear by Marks and Spencers but he thinks they’ve gone downhill recently and he’s joined Jeremy Paxman’s complaints commission to register his displeasure. Until they sort it out to his liking and reintroduce socks with built in mosquito repellent and self drying fans, he’s buying them from Primark.  He hates shopping in Primark, but you can get twenty pairs for a fiver and he goes through socks like nobody’s business.  When he’s going on a particularly challenging expedition he pays his local WI to knit special survival socks, to his own recipe.  The recipe is deadly secret and if one of the women leaves they mysteriously disappear only to be found hanging in the woods by some home made string days later.  It’s a risky business, socks.

Gadgets have made dying more graceful.

You’ve obviously been reading the latest edition of: ‘How to die like a posh bloke – First for the suicidal elite.’ again.  In a recent poll by a lady with a clip board, here are the top five graceful, gadget based deaths in 2008 so far:

1. Choking by Theo Fennell silver Marmite jar lid (embossed with a tiny picture of Elton John)
2. Roasting to death by Jo Malone kumquat and wild cactus candle (£60 for a large size.  If you’re going for the medium at £24 each, you will need two)
3. Strangulation by John Smedley all cashmere polo neck jumper.
4. Suffocation by Liberties all silk king sized duvet, with peacock print bed linen in best Egyptian cotton with 308 thread count.
5. Amputation by Nigella Lawson retro style rotary whisk in pale blue, cream or lavender ( all profit goest to the breast cancer trust)

What happens if you drink washing up liquid?

You have really pretty farts and save money on one of those bubble machines from the Early Learning Centre.

Aren’t granny’s cool like that?  My granny used to let me stay up late and watch Starsky and Hutch when she babysat for me.  She used to send me up to bed just as my parents car wheels screeched onto the gravel, and I was charged with feigning sleep so that she wouldn’t get into trouble.  This is how I gained my extensive knowledge of terrible Seventies cop shows, which my parents heartily disapproved of and never let us watch.  We moved on from Starsky and Hutch to Kojak and then the Rockford Files.  Illicit pleasures one and all.  She also used to let me take snacks to bed.  I remember with particular fondness a giant bag of meringue nests, which looking back on it, is probably the worst thing to try and eat a) quietly and b) in bed, but what the hell!  It’s a wonder I have any teeth at all.

We too were over the moon with the news that the children were leaving home, albeit temporarily.  On a regular day, Oscar is in bed by seven and apart from the odd grumble, hardly wakes at all.  We had planned a glorious evening slumped in front of the television, lounging decadently in our pyjamas, eating Sainsbury’s chilli and lime nachos and drinking double tea on the rocks.  We were fools to ourselves. 

Naturally Oscar had detected that something was afoot.  He had his ‘Oy! How come I’m being left behind’ style antennae tuned to the ether and had figured out that he was being denied access to his lovely granny.  He was not pleased, not pleased at all.  It was us who paid the price by golly.  He’s not going to take missing out on Cocoa Pops lying down.  Death before dishonour and all that.

He sang tuneless dirges to himself in his cot until nine o’clock, whereupon the novelty had worn off for all concerned. He then went into an extended bout of wailing and got ravelled up in his duvet.  This intensified the wailing as he was now convinced he had been confined in his cot with a boa constrictor who was now trying to swallow him whole.  He settled down at about half past nine, only to ‘accidentally’ throw his dummy half way across the room as an experiment.  He then found he couldn’t live without it, and the wailing commenced once more.

From about ten we had a brief respite, which was rudely shattered as soon as I turned the light out to go to sleep at about twelve.  His magical, bat like hearing heard the clicking of the switch and he went into his full on; ‘Woe is me! Alack the day’ routine, which lasted until three o’clock this morning.  Satisfied that he had ruined any chances we might have of ever conceiving a sibling for him (I did explain to him that it wasn’t possible, but he’s not taking any chances), he went to sleep with a satisfied sigh.  Job done.

I did have the foolish hope that we might get a lie in, as he must surely be absolutely shattered this morning.  He awoke, as fresh as a daisy at seven thirty, ready to start the day.  I bribed him to stay put with the promise of breakfast in bed, which gave us a whole hour longer.  We were all rudely awakened by Jason’s phone going off at half eight.  He’d forgotten he was on call and luckily for us, half the computers in the Western hemisphere went on strike this morning, so he was required to get up and figure out what went wrong.  I could tell him.  We tried to have a night off from the kids, that’s what went wrong.  Oscar is hacking into the interweb using his Fisher Price phone and a Farley’s rusk in revenge.

This is exactly the kind of thing that happens when my mother decides to go on holiday and the cat is left at home alone.  Because all her children have grown up and left home she now mother’s the cat instead.  It has its own water glass.  It has its own chair.  It gets taken for rides in the car and meals out.  It has its own temper tantrums.  It has more fur than a child (well, most children) but other than the lack of opposable thumbs there is no difference at all.

Now when I say alone, I obviously don’t mean alone.  That cat is treated like an Egyptian Goddess.  She is pampered, preened and generally bowed down to on a daily basis.  When my parents go on holiday, not only do they employ a cat sitter (sadly not someone whose job it is to professionally sit on cats! ‘Oh yes! I had a marvellous week last week. I flattened three Burmese, a Siamese and one of those nasty Mr. Bigglesworth type ones.  It was a personal record for me!’), who comes round twice a day.  They also send my brother in so that she has someone to sit with in the evenings and doesn’t get lonely!  I’m surprised they don’t keep Radio Four on low in the background.  Perhaps that’s only for burglars though, so they can catch up on the Archers whilst robbing you blind.

Several days before they go away, the cat starts her sulking campaign in the hope that seeing her feline in such terrible straits will weaken my mother’s resolve and force her to ring the travel agents and cancel any plans for the next fifteen years or so.  When that doesn’t work she generally resorts to dirty tactics like feigning mysterious ailments, limping around coughing gently into lace hankies and the like.  Occasionally she likes to swoon off of the furniture into a dishevelled heap below and then gaze up at my mother with an injured expression which says: ‘You! You! Are responsible for this.  How can you even think of leaving me at a time like this?  Look at me.  I’m just a raddled old heap of bones and fur. Hem, hem.’

This always gets mum going and she invariably has an emergency dash to the vets two days before any holiday type event.  The vet is then able to reassure her that the only thing wrong with the cat is a serious bout of hypochondria.  Just to be on the safe side he gives her several injections, some eye drops and some pills the size of Dorking which he assures her the cat should just swallow beautifully.  Apparently the best thing to do with them is just pop them in the food and the cat will eat them, unaware of the cunning ruse being played out before its very eyes.  Naturally this confirms my deepest suspicion that the vet has only ever had a pet horse and the one and only time he had to give pills to a feline was when it was actually dead anyway.

I’m totally convinced that most vets are deranged.  It’s probably spending a lot of time in close confines with an unlimited supply of ketamine I expect.  When I lived in London with my ex-husband (who wasn’t then my ex) we had two cats.  He bought them for me to make up for the fact that we had been trying to have a baby for two years and only succeeded in hospitalising me several times for various horrible pregnancy related mishaps.  The cats were called Ronnie and Reggie, which should have given me a clue as to their nature.  Naturally enough I ignored all the warning signs and was thrilled with my two adopted sons.

Ronnie was the runt of the litter and spent his whole life trying to suck my fingers and dribbling all over me.  He had a pet spider which he carried round in his mouth, and growled at anyone who tried to take it off him.  His brother, Reggie, was a cool customer who spent the first three weeks at home as a pair of luminous eyes in the back of the wardrobe, but with increasing confidence soon went on to become a master criminal and owner of a small jazz piano bar in the back garden.

I took them to the vets to get them checked over and the vet announced that he thought that Ronnie might have skin mites.  It might be dandruff, but he couldn’t be sure, so just in case he charged me £40 for some mite shampoo and told me to take him home and give him two goes with the shampoo.  I said yes, like it would be the easiest thing in the world, and obediently trotted off with the shampoo and the cat in tow.  What I should have said was: ‘Here’s another fifty quid mate.  You do it!’

Thankfully Ronnie was a bit dim, and didn’t twig on to what was happening as I stuck him in the bottom of the bath.  Amazingly he remained totally still while I rinsed his fur with the shower attachment and lathered him all over with the foul smelling shampoo.  I couldn’t believe my luck.  I was just beginning to congratulate myself on how easy it was when he suddenly worked out that he really wasn’t keen on being at the hairdressers and decided to have a major mong out half way through being showered off.

I did managed to keep hold of him, and keep him under the water (to this day I have no idea how) but this totally finished him.  He just decided that he had had enough, stretched out to full length, his eyes glazed over and he went as stiff as a board (truly catatonic).  I’d got three foot of rigid, dripping cat in one hand and a shower attachment in the other.  I started panicking because I was afraid I’d killed him, but finished rinsing him off anyway, as I couldn’t have a soapy dead cat on my hands.  God forbid!  I decided against the second shampooing, as it didn’t seem worth the effort if he was dead.  I hauled him out and laid him on the bathroom rug.  He just lay there making small pools on the tiles while I ran round and round shouting: ‘I’ve killed the cat! I’ve killed the cat!’ and panicking.

In the end I decided to dry him off with the hair dryer and if necessary tuck him under my arm like a rolled up newspaper and take him back to the vets.  I plugged in the dryer and played it over his fur, at which point he came back to life with a vigour which surprised me to the point where I nearly dropped the hair dryer into the bath and killed myself.  He then sped round and round the room like a furry wall of death rider, before collapsing in a slavering heap behind the toilet.  I decided that we both needed space to come to terms with what had happened and left him there while I went and had a lie down.  It was a terrible day.

The next time I had to go to the vets was when Reggie got conjunctivitis.  My previous cat Tess had had it, because she used to lie down by the front door and watch people going by through the gap between the bottom of the door and the step.  Her nosiness cost me about fifty quid, because not only did I have to pay for eye drops, I also had to pay for a draught excluder.

This time round there was a different vet because I had refused to see the evil shampoo vet.  This bloke was very hale and hearty and came from South Africa, where animals clearly behave in a much more civilised manner and do exactly as they’re told.  He confirmed my diagnosis and gave me some cream.  He also however, gave me his patented cure for conjunctivitis the completely easy and natural way!

This easy peasy cure involved putting the cat in his cat basket and tipping it on its end so that the cat’s bottom was resting on the wire mesh door.  You then built two towers of books, to about a foot high, on which you rested the cat basket full of cat.  Naturally the cat would be completely compliant with this chain of events and sit with great docility on top of the wobbling tower without moving a muscle.  He probably has a little wash and a nap whilst waiting for the next stage in the proceedings.  At no point would he become a heaving pile of agitated fur and claws, rotating round the basket like a demented fury and trying to chew his way through the wicker to freedom.

At this point, you the owner would find a large bowl and fill it with freshly boiled water and a spoonful of Vicks Vaporub.  You would take the steaming bowl and place it carefully between the two book stacks, underneath the basket, thus allowing the vaporous steam to waft its way gently up into the cat basket.  You would then throw a large blanket over the whole affair and wait for twenty minutes until the cat had steamed through.  The cat would sit quietly, enjoying the heady aroma of eucalyptus and breathing freely through its tiny nostrils.  You would sit calmly on the sofa, flicking through a magazine and wondering if Keira Knightley ever has an off day. Et voila! No more conjunctivitis.

Naturally, the cat, wanting to get better would be happy to sit still while boiling hot eucalyptus steam percolates through his nether regions.  He would not ever wail like an ululating Arab and fight like the hordes of hell were after him, thus precipitating his and the basket’s fall into a waiting bowl of boiling water.

My mind played quickly through this scenario and wondered whether the vet was mentally rubbing his hands with glee at the thought of how much money he would be able to charge me once I returned with a par boiled yet aromatic cat.  I took the regular medicine, swore to him that I would indeed go home and immediately begin the poaching process, and promptly changed vets.

Back to my mother who is still, bless her heart, at the vets, waiting patiently for us.  The vet is terribly sorry that he then has to charge her £300 for the privilege of chasing the cat round the lounge for two hours to stuff her in a wicker basket, drive her to the vets accompanied by the soothing sounds of wailing and puking and the unmistakeably acrid stench of cat piss only to find there’s nothing wrong with her.  To add insult to injury he stands well back while she’s trying to get the cat back in the basket to go home.  Anyone who’s had the pleasure of trying to scoop a sweaty pawed, pissed off cat off a stainless steel table without shunting it headlong into the drugs cabinet will know what a joy this is.

By this time my mum and the cat hate each other with a passion. My mum now has no spending money for her holiday, can never be a nude model again due to the interesting basket weave effect scratches all over her torso and is covered in moulting cat hair.  The cat is sweating, dishevelled and sitting in a reeking basket full of her own vomit.  She’s wondering where it all went wrong, but knows for sure it’s my mum’s fault, and she will be made to pay.

On the actual day of the holiday itself she attaches herself bodily to my mother, swaying on her shoulder like a flea bitten parrot, leaping off only at the sight of the suitcases, which she likes to dig through, sleep in and remove vital pieces of clothing from.  I did ante natal classes with a couple whose cat was so vehemently anti holiday that it actually crapped in their suitcase while they weren’t looking. In their haste to depart they didn’t notice until they arrived several hours later at their destination and unzipped the case to be met by a wall of stench.  Mum’s cat doesn’t go quite that far.  Yet… 

When they finally do go away the cat is so furious about its thwarted plans it spends the whole week catching livestock and releasing it into the house, whereupon my brother and I are forced to go round and practice our amateur pest control tactics.  The worst time was when we had a frog, two mice and a muntjack deer to dispose of.  Luckily the cat hadn’t actually caught the muntjack deer, although I expect it would have given it its best shot, just to scare the living crap out of my parents when they finally flung the covers back to get into bed and were confronted with the severed deer head bleeding gently on the pillow.

No, the deer was just an added extra to spice things up.  It had escaped into the garden from the local woods and was frisking about chewing my dad’s roses to shreds and generally having a fine old time.  I rang my mum on the mobile to ask her what to do and she said: ‘Oh! A deer.  I thought you were ringing about the ferret!  The ferret lady’s number is on a peg in the kitchen.’  Turns out that mum had seen an escaped ferret on the lawn the day before they left and had called one of Britain’s top ferret breeders, who apparently lives just down the road from her (who knew?!) who was happy to come and catch it if she spotted it again.  Nice that she’d left it until she was actually on holiday to tell me.

I spent two hours on the phone to the RSPCA about the deer because my grandma who then lived with my mother, was worried that it might starve to death.  Having seen what it had done to dad’s roses I wasn’t too bothered about that, but couldn’t let the children out to play in the garden in case they were mowed down by a rogue deer.  I spent most of the two hours in a phone queue.  When I finally got through, the woman told me that she couldn’t be held responsible for the doings of a wild deer and that she had quite enough trouble on her hands with some ducks that were nesting in the Tesco car park, thank you very much.

Thankfully I didn’t see the ferret and decided to ignore the deer in the hope that it might go away, which it did eventually.  My carefully ignoring the deer, which took a lot of effort, was just the distraction the cat needed to offload the frog and mice into the house for the evening’s entertainment.  The sooner that cat goes to feline heaven the better. Mind you, they’re not much more reliable when they’re dead.  They usually do something to put a spanner in the works, even from beyond the grave.

My best friend, Rachel, had a lovely, shy and unassuming cat called Monty.  He really wasn’t any trouble at all and spent most of his life hiding in cupboards from children (a wise manoeuvre, and one which I have since tried to emulate myself).  He didn’t give you severed squirrel heads for your birthday (thanks Ronnie), or pooh in your suitcase.  He was a mild mannered janitor, until he died.

It all started with her daughter Maisy coming to inform Rachel that Monty was sunbathing in the back garden.  An hour later when she came back to tell her that he was still sunbathing she got suspicious and had a look herself.  Monty was sunbathing with a lot of fly friends.  Frankly, things looked grim for Monty.  Rachel sent the children upstairs on a fictitious errand that involved turning the lights off and having the curtains drawn, rang her mother and went to investigate.

It turns out that Monty was very, very dead.  So dead in fact that he had advanced rigor mortis and was as stiff as a board.  You don’t actually realise how long cats are until they’re laid out full stretch in your garden dead as a dodo.  Monty was long and dead and something had to be done.

Rachel’s mum got a spade and Rachel got a cardboard box and made sure the children were still burying each other in the toy box.  They approached Monty, and Rachel shovelled while her mum held the box.  Turns out cats can be quite tricky to shovel when they’re stiff and a bit slidey. Eventually they managed to get him into the box, at which point they realised that he was far too long for the box and his whole tail was sticking out, pointing skyward to the heavenly place to which he had so recently ascended.

By this time Rachel was hysterical with laughter (and grief naturally), and had run out of ideas.  In the end they walloped his tail with the spade, but only succeeded in making a slight crease in the top third, which just finished her off completely. After this she shoved the box down by the bins and waited for Chris to come home from work, thus passing the buck nicely.  As far as the kids are concerned Monty is still somewhere sunning himself for eternity!