Indian Summer

I am enjoying the sunshine on this day in late May, in Adelaide. Lynettea says it is probably global warming heating up my furs. I am fluffing them out to catch the warmth.
And I have decided not to start the group she says I should: 'Cats against climate change', as I just want to drift my life away, resting on my shelf.
Now she is heckling me. What about the summer, when it was too hot for even me to go outside? NO! I am putting my head down so I can't hear her as well.

Rest stop

I am not going properly to bed until I get my supper. This is just a temporary rest stop!

The Vet came this morning

I am prepared when the Vet arrives. I leap from my cosy and run down the hall. Lynettea has shut the bedroom door and when I arrive at my cat flap it is bolted.
What to do?
As soon as the vet gets into the kitchen, I race back up the hall.
'Where are you, Sasha? Come out, Sasha! Good boy!'
I stay quiet.
They go back into the kitchen and I can hear some rattling.
'Where is he? Good boy, Sasha.'
I keep quiet.
I can hear the Vet  poking around near the computer desk and some light darts up from a torch.
'There he is, at the far end. Behind the bookcase.'
Drag, pull etc. of books and cartons.
He's got me!
'Good boy, Sasha.'
Now the Vet is feeling me and making personal remarks about my body. I decide to keep quiet, as I am pinned down.
Now we are heading into the kitchen and the door gets shut. The Vet puts me down and I run into the laundry, but Lynettea picks me up and puts me on the kitchen table, where the Vet does a nasty and too personal test, then jabs me with two needles.
'Do you think he needs worming?' I hear Lynettea asking.
The Vet goes to get tablets from his car.
So I leap on the fridge.
Now he is trying to grab me again. He can't reach me properly.  I leap off and Lynettea grabs me. Then it is weighing time, but my legs won't stay on the scales.  Finally they are all on the scales. 4.9 kilos.
The vet looks at my enclosure, my foods and my litterboxes.
Then he leaves.
'Was that better, Sasha? You didn't have to go in the cage or the taxi, or wait in the room with the dogs.'
I am speechless.
Let's go for walkies.  I want to get out!

Gravy

I really wanted gravy this time, but I suppose jelly will have to do.

Home Vet visit

Lynettea says she has booked a home visit for me from the mobile vet on Tuesday morning for my vaccinations.
Usually the neighbour comes in to help put me in my pet transport unit and we catch an Uber to the clinic. I find this very stressful. I have worked out how to stick all my legs out at the sides of my body at the same time to stop Lynettea putting me in the cage, and I meow very loudly all the time on the way to the clinic. When we get there we have to wait in the waiting room with rough looking dogs, who sometimes try to sniff at my cage. I stay under the blanket covering so they can't see me.
One time we couldn't get a taxi back and waited for hours until it was dark and the clinic closed. The vet nurse drove us home because she felt sorry for us.
Another time we had to stand on the street in slight drizzle waiting for the Uber. Fortunately I had my blanket on most of the time.

I might not let the vet inside, though. I might not be in the mood.

An email for me

Lynettea says there is an email for me from my Vet. She says I should look at it.
But I don't think I can be bothered.  Some things are best ignored, like unwelcome visitors at the door.

A Warm Discovery

'You will love this, Sasha.'
Lynettea pulls an object from a shelf in the wardrobe. 'This is the warmer Diamond used when he was an older cat. Look! I have a few of these. I'll pop one of them in the microwave for you.'

After heating it she wraps it in my mock fur rug.

 Here I am, snuggling up to it at the side of the cosy while the rain pelts down and the hail clatters on the iron roof.

Very snuggly!