PTC has been away for a week; down in Somerset getting ready to move the Queen of the Chooks and the Constipated Cat from Somerset to the wilds of Argyll. A removal van came down from Oban all the way to the West Country, a journey which took them two days, having gone via the Great Smoke to drop off a load for someone else. So long as they stick to the quote when it comes to the bill … A great couple of lads who were relaxed and fun to work with packing up the few sticks of furniture and assorted accessories that Her Maj and the Cat were bringing with them. They were away from Somerset by nine-thirty on Wednesday and we were not far behind them on the road. The Cat was caged, cabinned and confined and spent the journey on Her Maj’s lap, only, and much to our surprise, emitting only two howls during the whole nine-hour journey.
Arrived home late yesterday evening, at which point the Cat was released from her enforced confinement and introduced to the house. To describe her reaction as lacking enthusiasm might be considered understatement, but it is probably more an understatement of an understatement. She howled, she yowled, she refused food, water and a litter tray and took to her (our) bed in protest at the new arrangements.
She has now been at the new house for over 24 hours and has yet to make use of her litter tray, or as far as we can ascertain, any of the carpets in the house (the Cat, not Her Maj, that is). I am beginning to anticipate something of an explosion when she does finally allow the levee to break, and I only hope that she remembers where her litter tray is when the spirit moves her.
The Constipated Cat
The removal lorry will arrive tomorrow (Friday) to deliver all the bits and pieces from Somerset – goodness only knows where everything will fit, bit Her Maj will at last have the opportunity to make this house a home for both of us.