I am catless.
Tonight, after a lot of arseing about, he was finally caught and taken down to Pat and Kat's place. When I finally caught him, he snuggled into my arms as if to say, "Not again!"
On the good side of things, after the last trip to Darwin, when he stayed at Blarney and Barney's place and came back a little bit lighter and a lot sookier (He hates it there, but they want to love him.) on being let out at his holiday home for the next three weeks, he went for a wander, came upstairs, tail up, curious and ready to go on surveillance. He likes to do a round - patrol the place. Also, immediately, he went up to Pat for some love, then went to eat some of his cat grass which was placed on the table.
Spoiled much!
This was unlike when I took him over to Blarney's place, where he sat in his travel box and hissed at me. He rarely hisses at me - he prefers to yell at me before biting my ankles.
He was also fed some stinky, fishy food. I'd already given him his dinner, but he got a second helping.
In other words, he's fine. I left about half an hour later.
Kat's already sent me a text. "Boy has a new trick. Is now walking his mouse on a stick up and down the stairs - not just one way."
The king of the castle has claimed his turf.
My place, on the other hand, feels empty.
It also means I can finally start packing.
And running the hoover without feeling guilty.
And go to sleep without being interrupted by somebody standing on my bum,
And....
I will miss the little sod while I'm away, but I know he is very much loved where he's staying - as long as he doesn't piss on Pat's Porsche parts again...
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