Getting Dressed Again

I am all dressed up, with nowhere to go. The young man I was supposed to be meeting at lunchtime has phoned and cancelled. But I am bathed, with clean hair and a clean blouse. And I will have to get changed now, before I can take the dog out. It is bad enough getting dressed once in a day. Tch.

I plucked my eyebrows and everything. See?

Holly is lying on my foot but getting wriggly; I think we will have to go out soon. I have discovered that if I walk her a bit later - about 2 ish - then she will sleep on my feet until about 5. Then she gets ready for Steve's retun and lots of bouncing at 5.30. He is convinced I don't actually take her for walks at all - and judging by the way she leaps in the air as soon as he gets home, I don't blame him. It is slightly unfair that I get to look after her while she is (mostly) asleep - but then again, I do all the walking.

We are going to try a new walk today. On what I think is National Trust land, so there is no risk of farmers with shotguns.

Charlie has made a friend. Sometimes he comes in through the upstairs window and they play, I think, in our room. It is very jolly. Charlie has made quite a home for herself up there; she has fashioned a bed from the clean washing at the top of the stairs, and she is happy wandering in and out via the window. When she wants food or attention, she comes to the bottom of the stairs and mews loudly. As long as she doesn't have a house-party, I don't mind.

He is nextdoor's cat, and his name is Freddie. He is Charlie's ideal man, I think. He has been seeing off the Demon Tabby but won't raise a whisker to Charlie. She thinks he is the bees' knees. What she doesn't know is that he is afraid of his cat-flap. When he wants to get into his house he wails in the porch until I go out, climb over the fence and hold open the cat-flap for him.

Perhaps I should start a side-line in animal rescue. Ace H: Pet Rescuer.