It is silly season*, and to celebrate we are looking after our friend's cats for 3 1/2 weeks while they gallivant about Austria on bicycles. It's not hard, granted - especially since N does everything as I am "working" (or hungover, or sleepy, well - you get my drift). But I was getting concerned that said felines might be missing the companionship of humans. Pining, if you like.
I used to be a cat person, but we got a dog 18 months ago and he has slowly been re-aligning my allegiance. This has been aided by the fact that we have a pebble/gravel walkway to our house that is often festooned with cat shit. Three cats live in the flat upstairs. These two facts could be unconnected...
So, to dispel any pining that may or may not have been taking place, we decamped this afternoon to our friends' lovely sunny garden where we forced (forced!) ourselves to sit in the sun and read the papers, drinking several of our home-brewed (from kit) ales. What good friends we are!
The cats completely ignored us.
*for non-uk readers, this refers to the period in August where the establishment hikes off to France/Tuscany/Suffolk and in their absence the whole country supposedly goes to pot. Signified by a plethora of news stories of barking dolphins and what not.
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