Tuppence

It's now two years since Demelza brought in a tiny baby sparrow she'd caught. Fortunately being a highly inefficient hunter meant that as per usual she "lost" her prey. As I had no idea where she'd found this bird I was unable to put it back into a tree for its parents to find so put it in a cardboard box and convinced myself it would probably die of shock. However when I checked a while later it opened its beak so I mixed up some chicken mince with warm water and fed it. To cut a long story short Tuppence survived and grew into a pretty male sparrow with attitude. Originally I was going to release him back into the wild but unfortunately he has no fear of cats, even pulling their fur and tweaking their tail if they sit beside his cage (which they tend to do if they think I'm not in the vicinity). He always flies back to you when he's out exercising and pulls my hair and chats away to me. He has an ongoing love affair with his mirror and bell which he periodically bashes. Strangely though his song has altered and you can hear him whistling the cats (as I do) as well as saying hello on occasion.

Piper has spent the past four nights inside which is unusual. I have been worried as she has lost some weight but put that down to her cardiomyopathy. However yesterday she was absolutely drooling and unable to eat. Of course I managed to convince myself she was going into renal failure but when I offered her some meat mid morning she was interested but only seemed able to pick chunks out, placing them beside the dish. I had some soft cat food which I put out and she scoffed this with relish so I think she may have a tooth problem. I had a look but couldn't see anything but will keep an eye on her for the next few days to see how she goes. The drooling has eased today and she managed to eat her breakfast today so hopefully it was only a minor problem. This is the latest photo of Piper and she was relaxed enough to allow me to show her stumpy tail.

Flight Of The Wasp

Packing is on hold at the moment since I've run out of boxes. Have completed tearing my bedroom to bits though, taking down all the nick nacks I usually have to dust. Still have alot to do with just nine days till the move. Have lists of lists of tasks and am feeling really stressed.

In the middle of all this Sunday I was moving all my potted plants from the patio when something black flew into my face. Next moment I was in excrutiating pain-turns out I was stung in the nose by a paper wasp. Don't recommend it as you end up feeling like you've been hit by a bat.

Had a trip back out to Tiko last week to see the place again and meet a couple of the neighbours. The landlady is leaving a few things behind including her aquarium of fish and some items of furniture which I can use. She is moving out about the 28th but says I can begin shifting things in before then. It's just a matter of finding people willing to help as it is an hour's drive from my current home to the new place.

Oh and yesterday the current landlord and landlady came over with a tradesman to measure the cottage for carpet and lino. Looks like the whole place is going to be renovated once I'm gone. C'est la vie!

Giving Up Dusting

I'm giving up dusting for Lent. Well not so much making a sacrifice but coming to the realisation that it's foolish dusting the furniture when I'm packing everything anyway. The whole shifting business is so daunting- I'm trying not to think about it. I do have moments of satisfaction though like Sunday when I managed to condense 14 boxes of items into three. Well most of the boxes only had a couple of things in the bottom anyway so really it was no great feat. When I moved here over eight years ago I only had my bedroom furniture and had to borrow chairs and a couple of tables. Storage here is at a premium so much of my "stuff" has been sitting in the boxes they arrived in. My sister once asked when I was going to unpack but the truth is that I had nothing to put anything in so what was the point? However sifting my way through a lifetime of accumulated dross has forced me to be a bit ruthless- if I haven't seen things in eight years are they really that important? The problem with inveterate hoarders like myself is that you always convince yourself that something is going to "come in handy one day".

I have been awake since 3am today. Tried to get back to sleep only to have Peaches leap across from the bed onto the dressing table sending two pictures and all my crystal figurines (given to me by family and one now deceased friend) crashing down behind the chest of drawers. 4am saw me reaching behind trying to rescue things and trying not to freak about all the spider's webs I could feel. Amazingly the only things that were broken were a crystal duck's tail which had separated from its body and a tiny rabbit who has lost its ears again. Managed to find all the pieces and will try and repair them again before packing them for safety's sake. I have a feeling it's going to be a long long day.............

Another miracle

I spoke to Doug the vet yesterday and he confirmed that Piper would definitely be dead by now as she hasn't had her medication for a week and her cardiomyopathy is severe. So I can state that another miracle has occurred since Piper turned up at 6.45am today. Thin, her voice pretty much gone and her heart doing a tap dance, but alive. After giving her a relieved cuddle I got some propranalol down her and dished out a big breakfast which she scoffed down. At the moment she is sitting up on top of the fridge with her feet neatly tucked underneath her as if nothing has happened.

Goodbye Piper

It's now a week since Piper disappeared so I must come to terms that she is dead. I contacted the vet earlier this week and the receptionist had a word with him before ringing back to say that he felt her meds were now out of her system and she was extremely ill and hiding away. They both felt the prognosis was poor. I know Doug didn't think she would survive the examination he gave her way back in June and refused to give her any medication at the visit as he was worried her heart would give out from the stress of administering it. The propranalol pills brought Piper back to her old self, she was even frisky and playing with the water out of the hose like she did as a kitten. She had eight months more life than we thought she would and although I knew her life wouldn't be long I am still so sad that it was cut short as it was. Piper was only three years old.