Cuddle Time

Last month I mentioned my Dichotomy - that life was pleasant but without extremes. Part of the upside was my saggy, baggy, deaf old cat. This morning I found him dead in his basket - 19 years of memories consigned to the incinerator. I'd expected, in my usual non-sentimental style, that when then time came, I would simply bag him up and drop him off at the council tip, but this morning, I uncharacteristically came over all mawkish, and paid £65 to have him lovingly cremated.

Wow, is there ever money in dead pets - I shall bear it in mind if I ever need a career change and feel I could manage to keep a straight face long enough. It was almost worth the money for the comedy value - the ever-so-sympathetic-wily businessman says: "Would you like to lay him out in the Chapel of Rest or shall I? You can take as long as you want to say your final goodbyes." Me: "Errr, can't you just take him away, he's starting to smell..."

Strangely enough, almost the last person to see him alive was D - he had a free evening and popped over to the house. His first visit to the house & the first occasion that wasn't a fumble on expenses. Life, eh?