Instagram mourning, phase 4. Limbo. Just bloody well reply already will you. Either accept my appeal or not so I can move on with my life. New insta page is up (Rosbif.blog instead of Rosbifblog) as a placeholder and I’m happy to have some of my very favourite people back in my life and just a quick message away. I think I shall soon see who my friends really are, but I’ve had a couple of absolutely lovely comments today that made me a bit emotional to be honest, and stopped me from throwing in the towel, when I had seriously considered it. If I have to start from scratch, then that’s what I’ll do, but this time, it’ll be with the benefit of 5 years experience. You best watch out if it comes to it.

The daily blogs are here to stay it seems. I’m enjoying them, and they don’t feel like a chore, so one definite positive from all this.

Bloody cats.

I’m a dog person, or so at least I thought. Heaven help me though, I’ve grown somewhat attached to Barney and Figaro, especially now Barney has decided I can touch him without risking being flayed like one of Dr Lecter’s victims.

A recent change to usual proceedings is that Figaro has decided she really likes to go for a walk with the dogs. So this morning, (Mothers Day), I watched from the kitchen window as the hubs, 2 dogs, and a grey and white Kit Kat, disappeared from view down the lane. Adorable.

We think it might be the last weekend of hunting season in our commune (yes!!) as I watched about 8 all terrain vehicles loaded to the gills with dogs, come back up the lane before hubs and the dogs were back. The lane is usually car free, you might get an occasional one, but today it was just bad timing. When a car comes, Figs ducks into the small wooded area at the side of the road and usually pops back out when the danger is gone. The prolonged convoy however, meant that I got a message from hubs to say that “Your cat is too busy hunting something in the woods and won’t come back out”. Little bugger thought I, but the woods are visible from the house and a 10 second walk from the boundary of the garden so I figured she’ll just come back when she’s ready.

Barney however, Mamma’s little soldier and big soft apath, was inside curled up in his bed (an old wine crate stuffed with cushions) in front of the radiator having head scratches from me. Oblivious. Walkies is a bit too exotic for my little fraidy cat.

We’ve been over to Les Rentals this afternoon for Mothers day lunch – chicken curry and hubs home made banana bread, lovely, and now we’re back just in time for the Scotland vs Ireland 6 Nations game. I went outside to see if Figs was in her “Figloo” in the barn, but no, just a sleepy Barney, so we’ve not seen her since this morning. This isn’t unusual, I think she goes to the farm opposite during the day sometimes if we’re not around and she’s exploring. I’m constantly terrified that someone else is feeding her, and that she loves them more than me!. Craig won’t let me buy them collars so I can mark them as my property for all to see – honestly I’d paint their bums like they do sheep. So I have to keep my kitty mothering game strong. Bit of ham here, chicken nugget there, kitty milk, tuna, and Figs will ride a unicycle and juggle fire for the merest whiff of Felix Party Mix.

I am anticipating that our little wanderer will return by nightfall for her dinner and early-late evening naps in front of the radiator curled up with her bro. She’d better be!

If I’m the one that’s giving her flea and tick meds, and worrying about her when she’s out of sight, and chasing off rival cats in the pitch black, you’d better believe she’s mine! Honestly I don’t think people that have issues with anxiety like I do should have cats. It’s just too much!

I’ll update in the morning. If I’m not out all night with a torch.

Laters…… V x