I'm 126 years old, based on the calculation of seven cat years to 12 human months, and I've got all sorts wrong with me, so I'm on borrowed time. Make the most of me and pay attention, as I might not be around for much longer.
Having said that, I was at the vet's last Friday and he's pleased with my condition. My blood sugar seems to have stabilised, and I've lost a bit of weight so - hurrah! - I'm now on increased rations. My sister's not going anywhere in a hurry either, but unfortunately that's literally as well as metaphorically true, as she's suffering rather badly from arthritis. Now she's on yet another medication; a liquid painkiller that's applied in drops to her food. I think that's us on three each now.
I'm quite excited, because it's "Advent". I don't know what that means, but it's clearly a countdown to something. Whatever it's leading to, Annie is excited about it. Perhaps it's a special day when she and Martin won't have to go to work, and we can all play games together, or more realistically, all lie in front of the fire and sleep.
Come to think of it, in the recesses of my tiny brain, there are memories of something called "Christmas" at about this time of year. I think I recall that as a kitten, I once spent Christmas wrapped up in a net curtain in Annie's rented flat in Clarence Drive, and Santa brought me a chorizo. I think Chutney and I may have been in the cattery for Christmas once or twice, too. I can't see that happening this year, however, as A and M have been away abroad four or five times this year already.
Anyway, A is complaining bitterly that she hasn't got an Advent calendar, and that M won't let her have one. This also seems strangely familiar....
As for the human dinners this week, the wintery theme continues. M made beef stew with dumplings the other day; proper old-fashioned English dumplings with suet, and horseradish mixed into the dough. Of course at my age, I approve of anything old-fashioned.
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