Yes, we have another cat!


Baldrick is about 18 months old and turned up in our garden mid-August and stayed. With the help of a cat charity we made contact with his original owners, who confirmed they didn't want him any more. 


I lost the battle with the naming. I wanted Logan. Martin wanted Baldrick. The argument was still going on after three days when we went to pick him up from the vets and she asked for the name to put on the micro-chip record. In the end I recognised that Martin very rarely fights so long and hard for something, so if he does it means a lot to him and I gave in. Most of the time we just call him Junior though 😁 


We should have named him after a hobbit as he is very passionate about food. We thought he was starving when we picked him up, but he is just very lean and muscular. He was a healthy 4kg but I'm sure that's changed because he adores food. Not human food, only cat food, and we struggle to stop him thieving. 


He was unneutered so he sprayed in the house to mark his territory. We had him neutered and we had to train him out of it by taking him to the litter tray first thing in the morning and not letting him out into the house until he'd wee'd in it. Now he doesn't spray except outside. 


He's a very talkative cat. I would say sometimes the word is 'incessant'. It transpires some of this is him being part Siamese and the other is anxiety, probably from being booted out by his owners and left to roam. Lots of strokes and play have helped.



He's so loving, cuddly and nudgy. Lots of headbops and kisses. We love him. 😍


We've always believed cats make their own choices. This one knew he was onto a good thing here 😄


By the way, please excuse any blue plasters in the photos. I have been chewing my fingers to smithereens since mum died and blue contact adhesive strapping stops me getting to them. 

Sorry I haven't been back here for while.


I got a serious case of the blahs in April. 


Then I took action to get myself out of the blahs and slid into a new, much more highly paid job when a colleague left. 


Then just when things were looking good my mum was diagnosed with terminal cancer in Mid-July and died August Bank Holiday weekend. She had a dormant cancer, where a few rogue cells from her 'cured' tumour 30 years ago lodged quietly in one of her ribs and then spread by stealth. She went into hospital to have something else sorted and a routine scan showed it was everywhere. COVID restrictions meant she spent a lot of time in hospital and a hospice without being allowed visitors, but they let us in to see her one last time the night before she passed away.


I'm grateful mum didn't suffer on for years.  I'm grateful we had another 30 years with her. 


My head's a bit of a mess. My house is an even bigger mess. The garden is a travesty. The only things that aren't a mess is the job and our finances, although our savings this year have not been great. But I'm slowly pulling my socks up, pottering, accomplishing a little every day.


That's all I can do really. I'll get back into the swing of blogging soon and post some pictures of the flotsam and jetsam of the last six months.


Hope you're all doing ok and hanging on in there. 



Powered by Blogger.

Read my old blog