Today
This morning Paul & I watched the kittens playing. They're pretty evenly matched and their play-fighting becomes less innocuous as they get bigger. Albinoni even hissed at Agnes today as she must have caught a tender spot.
Paul consoled Albinoni. We talked about a fairly silly detective drama we'd seen the night before which centered round a woman who rescued cats and had about thirty. Paul quoted from the drama "People who have cats should get a life". "Although," he added "I do think that three's the absolute upper limit." "I do like to have a couple of cats trundling around," I agreed. "But not thirty!" said my spouse. "What, like Mrs Entwhistle?"
In My Day
When we first moved into Belmont in 1971, I still owned Ariadne, the tabby who'd been with me right through college. We weren't supposed to have pets but we smuggled her in and, as the flat had access to the fire escape, she could get in and out. Ariadne had been suffering from an alop
ecia as a side-effect of neutering; she was receiving treatment but it's true to say that she did look a little scruffy.
One evening she didn't turn up. When she'd been missing for a few days we set about working out how to trace her. We went to the RSPCA but they didn't have her. We could hardly ask other residents as that would be an admission that we illegally had a pet. I can't remember how, but eventually a batty old lady who lived a few streets away told us that Ariadne had been found inside a vacant flat at Belmont and had been taken to a local cat rescue organisation run by a Mrs Entwhistle. We tracked down her number and paid a visit. The house reeked of cat piss and cats stared at us from every corner, I fervently hoped that Ariadne wasn't in such a vile place. At first she denied all knowledge but eventually told us that Ariadne had gone to new owners.
I was stunned and all the way home railed at Paul about it. We went to the RSPCA to ask advice. "Oh, Mrs Entwhistle!" they said in that tone of voice. "She's an absolute thorn in our sides; she simply hampers our work at every step and will not co-operate in any way. However, in law, a cat is not like a dog; it's simply a personal possession, like a watch, so she is guilty of theft in simply taking your cat, not taking proper steps to find the owner and then giving her away."
We called the police. "Oh, Mrs Entwhistle!" they said in that tone of voice "She's a perpetual nuisance; we'll put CID onto it." Which they did. However, they never found Ariadne and eventually Mrs E told us that, actually, Ariadne had been in such poor condition that she's had her destroyed. There seemed no point in further pursuit and no way of determining whether she was telling the truth.
It's true, most do-gooders often do no good at all.
This morning Paul & I watched the kittens playing. They're pretty evenly matched and their play-fighting becomes less innocuous as they get bigger. Albinoni even hissed at Agnes today as she must have caught a tender spot.
Paul consoled Albinoni. We talked about a fairly silly detective drama we'd seen the night before which centered round a woman who rescued cats and had about thirty. Paul quoted from the drama "People who have cats should get a life". "Although," he added "I do think that three's the absolute upper limit." "I do like to have a couple of cats trundling around," I agreed. "But not thirty!" said my spouse. "What, like Mrs Entwhistle?"
In My Day
When we first moved into Belmont in 1971, I still owned Ariadne, the tabby who'd been with me right through college. We weren't supposed to have pets but we smuggled her in and, as the flat had access to the fire escape, she could get in and out. Ariadne had been suffering from an alop
ecia as a side-effect of neutering; she was receiving treatment but it's true to say that she did look a little scruffy.One evening she didn't turn up. When she'd been missing for a few days we set about working out how to trace her. We went to the RSPCA but they didn't have her. We could hardly ask other residents as that would be an admission that we illegally had a pet. I can't remember how, but eventually a batty old lady who lived a few streets away told us that Ariadne had been found inside a vacant flat at Belmont and had been taken to a local cat rescue organisation run by a Mrs Entwhistle. We tracked down her number and paid a visit. The house reeked of cat piss and cats stared at us from every corner, I fervently hoped that Ariadne wasn't in such a vile place. At first she denied all knowledge but eventually told us that Ariadne had gone to new owners.
I was stunned and all the way home railed at Paul about it. We went to the RSPCA to ask advice. "Oh, Mrs Entwhistle!" they said in that tone of voice. "She's an absolute thorn in our sides; she simply hampers our work at every step and will not co-operate in any way. However, in law, a cat is not like a dog; it's simply a personal possession, like a watch, so she is guilty of theft in simply taking your cat, not taking proper steps to find the owner and then giving her away."
We called the police. "Oh, Mrs Entwhistle!" they said in that tone of voice "She's a perpetual nuisance; we'll put CID onto it." Which they did. However, they never found Ariadne and eventually Mrs E told us that, actually, Ariadne had been in such poor condition that she's had her destroyed. There seemed no point in further pursuit and no way of determining whether she was telling the truth.
It's true, most do-gooders often do no good at all.
1 comment:
I'm a do-gooder Ma, I called the RSPCA about Scruffy Stevesie and his bleeding head. Although, I shall do my best not to wantonly steal cats from the locals.
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