Not only have we been busy with holiday stuff – and my routine is completely out, something I’ll go into more detail on tomorrow – but shortly after we left Australia our cat, who was with a sitter, managed to break out of a window and escape. As those of you with pets can imagine, I’m feeling hideously guilty for leaving her even though I made sure she’d be taken care of and escaping was entirely her own doing. So writing has been hard.
Three and a half years ago, we had three cats. Kenny, who was twelve years old, had to be put down before the ninja was born due to increasingly severe health problems. Max, who was only six, was found dead in our neighbour’s yard last year – we think from his injuries that he had been hit by a car and dragged himself into the nearest yard. Molly was the only one we had left, and now she’s gone as well. We will miss her very much.