First the points! This week I fed Captain Savage’s cat, Tabitha, while he was away. She was so sweet, and soft, and purry…I don’t know why CS is always complaining that she beats him up. THIS tender, harmless little pussy??? And then…SWIPE! Ok, CS, now I believe you! (she’s still cute, though, and she did keep her claws sheathed).
And today Beetle and I went to see Clipsie, our blind pony, and brushed half a ton of summer fuzz off her. On the way home, Beetle had what is known as ‘an accident’. In case of accident, I’m supposed to let Beetle clean herself up in privacy or whisk her home forthwith, in case I get accused of child abuse. Since she clearly wasn’t managing, ‘in privacy’, I risked my career as a volunteer and asked her if she wanted some help. She did. Isn’t it strange how an obsession with sex and fear of its misuse have grown up together like twin monsters, hand in hand.
Talking of monsters, I want to draw a portrait, in half-light, of someone very close to me. This person’s done the usual range of unsavoury things. Cheated on their lover without a condom and denied both. Spent a weekend away with one lover, nipped out to spend an hour of it with another, while a third waited in ignorance at home. Passed on gossip knowing that it would lower other people’s opinion of the gossipee, and pretended it was accidental rather than malicious. Dropped friends who were too boring, arduous or obese. Wished someone dead, seriously.
This person’s usually the last to call when you’re down. Why? Because she forgot about you or worse, she wanted to finish her book. She’s the last to offer to help with the dishes. Other people got up first (they always do, somehow). When you’re having a hard time coping, she probably won’t even notice. If she doesn’t like you, you can have cancer and she won’t really give a stuff: not only that, but she’ll probably invest minimal effort in pretending to. While other people are fluttering about your baby’s pram, oohing and aahing, she’s probably sitting right where she is, fetching up an insincere smirk, and thinking how much prettier hers were.
She doesn’t like your success (unless she has a soft spot or feels sorry for you). The fact that it isn’t HER success annoys her. She doesn’t care when unknown teenagers fall off balconies, but she generally cries at funerals in the same way people catch yawns. Her caring is random, at best. At weddings, she’s always thinking about the divorce. She loves her kids, her animals, her family. That’s it. She’s quite likely to forget all about you when you’re not there.
She seems gentle enough. If you harmed her children she wouldn’t shoot you or watch as you sat in an electric chair. No. She would eat you alive, tearing you apart with her teeth and claws. Nine tenths human, one tenth big cat. Who is this person?
Well, partly. At times. I’m better than some and worse than others – but maybe this goes some way to explaining why I’m trying to be a little ‘gooder’ this year. And while you’re here, check out the tags!! Yes, courtesy of Ms M – who is MUCH nicer than I am!