Out with the paintbrush

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Sometimes decorating can feel like the Forth Bridge.

It’s a long time since I’ve written. Nearly a month, in fact. One reason is that I felt somewhat gutted by the death of our cat Scoopy and disinclined to do anything much. At 18 years and three months old, she owed us nothing, but she was in perfect health until arthritis of the jaw prevented her from physically eating. She lasted about a month after that, and putting her down was a grim decision, as these things always are. My right hip feels empty without her. 

About ten days later her sister, Bodoni, got ill with bloody diahorrhea. This cleared up with antiinflammatories and antibiotics, but two weeks later she got it again, and we feared cancer this time. Rushed back to the vet and she had her bloods done, and more antibiotics, and a clay drink to line her intestines, but then she had a stroke a few hours later from the stress of the consultation.

I thought she would die right in front of us, but unbelievably, 48 hours later, she was behaving as if nothing had happened. We’re fairly sure she’s blind in one eye, but other than that, she’s right as a trivet, hopping on and off the furniture and headbutting the DH every morning as he drinks his coffee. Her bloods showed no diabetes, liver failure or kidney failure, so her underlying good health appears to have carried her through. 

When it comes to her and her brother, Bembo, I’ll be grateful if I can get them through the summer. If an animal dies in winter, this seems in keeping with the season somehow, but it’s a shame for them to miss the sunshine while it lasts. I want their last days to be happy ones. Bemby is now profoundly deaf and ‘listens’ to music by putting his paws on my keyboard, and walks around the house wailing to tell us where he is. But again, other than needing that little bit more interaction to be assured that we can hear him, he is a very happy little soul indeed. 

Meanwhile, I am busying myself with the usual summer makeover of the house, though this year, it will be more marked than usual. Every summer I try to take the opportunity to paint a room while the curtains are down and the windows can be left wide open for the paint to dry, but this year I decided to tackle the kitchen, which is a major job (see separate blog to come). I’ve been up a ladder for days on end, endlessly coating the ceiling and walls with white paint in the hopes of relieving the gloom of winter, which will be upon us before we know it.  

So, back to it. Wish me luck…  

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