Sid: first night

Came down this morning to find Sid curled up in the armchair. With some trepidation (he's used to being outside) we left a litter box covered in earth, in the hope that he'd realise what it was for, and indeed, he did. One rather major hurdle over, in that case.

I have also been ferociously attacked, my arm slain, and then enthusiastically purred over.

Sid-rep

Cat has now emerged from under the bureau and has:

- been eating tulips (or nearly did, before they were whisked away from him)
- rummaged down the side of the sofa with a long black arm (probably looking for money to fund his bus fare back to London)
- adopted an ornamental African basket as his bed du jour
- lacerated my hand (my entire childood was spent with scratches from an almost identical cat)
- complained about his food
- had more acceptable food
- knocked over a CD stand
- and sat on my lap.

So far, so good.

Tuesday

One of those days where you feel you haven't done a damn thing, but then look back and realise you did - just a relentless grind of quotidiana (shopping, gardening centre, recycling, kitty litter and so on and so on). I did, however, groom the horses and trim their tails in preparation for the farrier, who did not show up. Dunno where he went, as he's not answering his phone, again. Honestly, they are like plumbers - so in demand they can charge what they like and behave as they please. We also put out the radio show - we're now live at 7 pm GMT on Tuesday nights, which is much more civilised than midnight.

My f-list has increased again and I know at least some of it is Sid's fan club! You're most welcome and I hope you enjoy the rest of it. The boy himself is basking on a velvet sofa in front of a roaring log fire. He has barely moved all day, except to entertain visitors, all of whom have come to see him. It's like housing a potentate, or something. Then again, he is a cat, so same thing, really.

Hissing Sid

Yesterday and most of today, we kept the intervening doors closed (in our house, this means Sid has a living room, dining room and hallway to himself). This evening, however, T let the dogs into the living room. Rather than hiding under the sofa, which he's been doing up until now, Sid remained on it.

Our Rottweiler went into what I can only call a state, of "You said you loved ME but now there's this black THING and you spent ALL DAY with him and now, I'm, I'm, I'm feeling REALLY INSECURE." At which point, she got on T's lap. She's 7 stone. But anyway, one dog and one cat on one not-huge sofa. Sid looked utterly appalled - the kind of expression an elderly colonel might assume when, during a quiet perusal of the Times in his club, he is suddenly interrupted by a really vulgar stripper.

I think she must have been disturbed because normally, she never comes into the living room when the fire is lit. You could see her thinking: FIRE! But...cat. FIRE! But...cat.

However, Sid did not do anything, despite being confronted by a large dog bottom. That's never good. Eventually Tara got down and lay on the floor. Sid Looked: Great Big Eyes (Tm). But he didn't run away. A little later, the Alsatian came in: he's much more clueless than the Rottweiler, ignored Sid, finally noticed there was a cat in the room and stuck his nose at Sid. Firecracker cat! Long arm lashes out, dog gives awful yell, runs around in circles ("Mum! He HIT me!"). Sid looks smug. Dog collapses onto rug, trembling.

Now both dogs are in their baskets (Alsatian still having a crisis) and Sid is on the sofa, purring away and occasionally flexing his feet.