Cat news and domestic chaos

For the followers of Kevin: I am thinking of changing his name to Lazarus. He was given a very positive report after half an hour of tests at the vet's today, and he behaved astonishingly well throughout, grumbling a bit but not fighting, and certainly not creating the Lake of Protest again. I have been told there's no need to worry about him while I'm away; he's even gained some weight.

The Lovely Son arrived today, to cluck in despair over the state of my PC, the endless and unsorted list of bookmarked websites, my dismal failure to remember computer jargon or to understand what a browser is and how it differs from a server, and many other gross deficiencies of intellect on my part. I receive exasperated lectures along the lines of "Look, this (something or other) is on your desktop... Firefox just lets you (something or other) ...and it's all stored on your computer! ...and that (something or other) is a storage device....and you're not downloading, you're transferring!!" and then he bangs his forehead on the keyboard in utter despair at his eejit mother. I can feel myself ready to swoon in fear and loathing at how instantly forgettable it all is, like the rules (I know, they're laws, not rules) of cricket .

But in return I cluck in despair over the instant chaos and disorder that arrives with him; the clothing bomb that explodes silently within moments of his rucksack being set down, always in a place where it becomes a major trip hazard, the fridge-raiding just before a meal, his easily-triggered swearing, the creation of countless half-finished mugs of tea, and many other gross and eejit-like deficiencies on his part. We get on very well together, obviously.

Travel terror continues to strike me from time to time, although Shelagh and the Lovely Son between them reassure me that all the electronic ticketing stuff works really well and that I have everything printed that I will need. Something else is bound to go wrong, I just know it.....I will walk through the crowded airport clad only in a skimpy vest and dying of embarrassment.....oh no, that's the dream we all have, isn't it......

News about Kevin!

Claire the vet has just rung with Kevin's test results. It seems that although his kidneys are "very leaky" - the mind boggles at what this means, but thank goodness for skin holding his insides in - his prognosis, apart from the unpredictable old age factor, is middling. Although vague and not flag-wavingly thrilling, this is still comforting, in that he isn't in the dreaded range of 0-6-months-to-live, (but also isn't in the 2-years-plus) and is likely to carry on quite well for some time, which for me, about to leave him for 3 weeks, is a huge relief. There were some percentages of whatever they tested for, which I forgot immediately, as that's maths and science, therefore instantly forgettable, but Claire seemed upbeat about his condition, and I won't argue with that.

He will have another check up and - oh joy! a sample of wee to be tested - before I go away, with Sandra there to be briefed by the vet on what to look out for. The most pressing concern at present is how to cope with Kevin's new practice of waking me up at a hideously early hour to dispense breakfast. Sandra's son, caretaking my house in my absence, may be more hard-hearted than me about this, and Kevin will have to unlearn this unappealing tendency. (No, leaving more supper out when I go to bed isn't an option, now that Tubby You-know-who can find his way to Kevin's dishes.)

Meantime, a tiny bit of rejoicing is in order, with some relief that it is his kidneys, and not his bladder, that leak. And for an old gent who is somewhere around 90 in the equivalent of human years, that's not bad at all. Good old Kevin.