Tuesday, 23 June 2015

The End of Cat


Cat is no more. She died on Sunday evening. I say died, more killed - by a neighbour's dog.

Gerry was out walking his elderly greyhound when Cat, who was on her last legs anyway and very frail, wandered across her path. Dogs being dogs, and greyhounds being greyhounds, the inevitable happened. It was all too much for Cat, who expired on the lawn aged 17.

Hay was distraught, Gerry and Anne were distraught. All-in-all, everyone was distraught. There was a lot of distress in evidence.

Last night we went round to Gerry and Anne's to tell them not to worry - these things happen. Hay used it as an excuse to tell them that the only way her anguish could be assuaged was for them to show her around their new house (like us, they built their own house - yet another contemporary, oak-beamed, barn-style thingie - in a plot next to their old house and moved in earlier in the year). 

Barn-style buildings are now becoming the norm in our little enclave and we have forged a tradition that never existed before we came on the scene (we had planning problems when we first put in for permission, as the planning department didn't consider a barn-style house as in keeping with the locale).

Three large glasses of wine each and a couple of hours later, we parted as if nothing had happened. Life's too short to have a grudge against neighbours. I told Gerry that the only way my deep anguish could be assuaged was for him to arrange a drive in Dave's E-Type Jag for me (Dave being Gerry's neighbour). Doubt that will happen.

Gerry and Anne were particularly distraught, as they have previous in this respect. A couple of years ago another dog of theirs got into Geraldine's house and ripped Geraldine's parrot apart. Geraldine was not as forgiving.

The burning question of the day now is whether Kitty gets promoted to being called Cat.

It's like Peyton Place round here....


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