Toffee won’t get out of bed…

The Preamble –

When Teddy is out of town, Toffee sleeps with Mum. We both slept in late but it was about 11 am and Toffee wouldn’t get out of bed. I wanted to change the bed for Teddy’s arrival. So why didn’t I just push her off?

Toffee is the last surviving cat that we brought from Egypt to the USA. When she was a feral kitten, she went missing for a night and I was looking for her frantically. Our gardener had found her and put her in his shed. Whatever happened was traumatic, perhaps a near miss with a car or a fall of the balcony, and she had injured her leg. We could not take her to the vet until she was more tame and by that time the injury had healed.

Every so often she would limp and so she now has Gabapentin to help with that. At almost 15 years old, we still can’t lift her and I don’t like shooing her (off the bed) in case she hurts her leg. She still runs around chasing a laser pointer so the meds are working. Now, enjoy!

On a final funny note, I sent this to friends and family. One of my aunts replied, “What are you McHugh girls like with your pusses!” She was referring to my Irish mother’s side of the family and my two cousins, her daughter and two nieces. We are all crazy about cats and have no children. I am the oldest crazy cat lady but I suspect there will be more…

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Nuns! Reverse!

Nuns reverse

It’s time for some Friday fun! As you know my family are ‘eccentric’ and I have no end of real life stories that would work well in a comedy script. My aunt, who lives in Ireland, married a man in her 40s – he was a little older. They moved from London where they both worked to a newly built bungalow on his family land in County Monaghan. I have no idea why we are a little snotty about coming from County Sligo but they do seem to be a tiny bit less ‘straightforward’ than some of her neighbors. I am really tip-toeing through this so as not to offend any of my Irish followers!

My aunt’s sister in law (her husband from Monaghan’s sister) had gone to join a restrictive French convent near Paris in 1939 and nobody saw her again until the ’70s when they relaxed their rules and allowed her to travel. By this stage she had turned into a strange quasi French and Irish person, uniquely naive and really eccentric. She spoke English with a French accent. So every year she came for a visit and from what I gather…’guests, like poisson, begin to smell after 3 days’. One of the rough straightforward neighbors had been begging to visit while Sister K was there. My aunt was unsure, concerned that some of her regular fecking might upset Sister K.

Finally, out of politeness, she had to give in and invited the neighbor along for afternoon tea. Perhaps she thought the occasion might lend some gravitas? All was delightful and both were probably incomprehensible to each other with strange accents. My aunt breathed a sigh of relief, as they went out the front door to see the neighbor to her car. Perhaps I should have mentioned that it was a gloriously hot day for Ireland, a rarity indeed. So, “goodbye, au revoir”, and the neighbor went into her car.

She immediately jumped out shouting, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I have burnt me fucking arse!“. Sister K’s face was a picture, “Mon Dieu!” and my aunt probably muttered, “For Chrissakes…” Ah, every time I tell that story, I burst out laughing and I hope you did too. Here is a clip for a Youtube video of my favorite satirical and hilarious series, Father Ted, about the Catholic Church in Ireland and the reason for the title.
Nuns! Reverse!