10 March 2006
Eek! coupled with phew! produces a bastard child - pheek! or eew!, depending. I think this is a pheek! situation - relief that none the less promises future stress.
In other words, Himself has deigned to eat. He’s eaten lots, I think, tho' it's quite hard to tell: what constitutes 'lots', in terms of dried kibble? I don't know, but anyway, he's eaten it. Now all I have to do is watch over him like an anxious mother-hen to make sure he does it again, and then again after that. Once in three days may be good for lions, but it ain't good for kitty-cats. Nor for me.
At the moment he's sitting in the window, watching the world go by. He does this quite often; indeed, I found him doing it at two in the morning in the moonlight, and played for a while with the thought of calling him Tycho Brahe. Only to abandon it, fairly promptly thereafter: how on earth would I explain that, to the happy nurses who called him Barry?
Besides which, a remarkable number of votes is coming in for the status quo, and Baz seems to work on a day-to-day basis. Thankfully I'm untroubled by the Chaz'n'Baz consonance that seems to disturb other people, I suppose because I so rarely call myself by my name.
© Chaz Brenchley 2006
Reproduced here by permission of Chaz Brenchley, who asserts his moral right to be identified as the author of this work.