The CM was very stressed for months last year, even when I plonked myself in her lap every evening and gave her my best purr and cutest looks, nothing soothed her anxieties. I didn't know what was going on - things in the house kept disappearing, either into boxes or into the black thing with wheels. She would mutter the words "dump", "tip" and "Sort it Centre" under her breath and then leave. When she returned she had a vague putrid aroma but looked very pleased with herself. Some of my favourite pieces of furniture for scratching just gone overnight. To be honest it got completely ridiculous when my pouffe, my beloved pouffe was hauled out and placed into a large white thing with wheels - I noticed the letters on the white thing "Age Concern furniture donations". I was most put out I can tell you. She gave me a quick ruffle behind the ear and placed my special blankie on....wait for it...a folded down cardboard box. Seriously. I gave her my best cold stare but she was oblivious. All that was left was an old chair and my makeshift bed. I wondered if this was our future now? Had she not paid her Council Tax? Maybe she had gambled all her money away? Had we been burgled? It was all too much to think about so I climbed onto the temporary Moo bed (with the most disdainful look I could muster) and settled down to snooze. Tomorrow was another day - maybe it would all become clear in the morning...
No comments:
Post a Comment