The clock ticks us into 2017
Mum has gone mad. Its way past her bed-time, Jimi cat has been telling her to get upstairs for ages and she is prancing round my kitchen doing something she calls a Kylie. I think thats what she said. It seems to involve a lot of twirling and twisting and if she doesn’t do herself or me an injury, she will fall over the basket-making materials she has forgotten are still scattered on the floor since kitten Spots helped her with her craft session. Mum says its traditional in Scotland to see the New Year in with a dance and a song. I supposed that means more of her caterwauling. She already woke Dad up with her drumming which set the dog off, convinced there was someone at the door, and him with his overactive mutt adrenals bow-wowing into the night sky. Me, I prefer to hear the robins. They have been serenading each other all night now that the light is increasing. Thats what I call singing.
Mum has been nursing a sore pinkie all day so no wonder her crafting was slow. She tried to rescue a stray honeybee which had lost itself in the cattery. She brought it in near my Aga to fetch a drop of honey to revive it before she took it up to the hive. Silly woman, she thought the other bees would be as happy to see their battered sister as she was. She tried to proffer it up on a nettle stem to the entrance and riled the guard bees so much they rushed out and one stung her little finger. Another lodged in her hair and next we knew she was yelling blue murder for Dad to get it out and rescue her. He had gone for a nap so young Patch did the honours to rouse him, launching himself from a height onto Dad’s bladder region to waken him. That worked, and it was nice of Patch to be bothered but by that time Mum had shaken the bee out of her hair and was nursing her finger and muttering about swellings and homeopathy and such rubbish. When that kitten has been around as long as I have he will know to leave the humans to it.
Mum wishes you a very happy and fulfilling New Year. I’d be happy with another bit of Mum’s bacon. She’s not looking is she? Think I might help myself while she’s prancing.
All the best from Mum and TIDDLER
She will fall over if she tries dancing in that frock
and a PS:
Mum went for a late girlie bath session with stinky scent stuff since Dad was to the way. When she unwound her hair a buzzy bee dropped out of it! She looked a bit stunned, the bee that is, but if I had been constricted in her mane for 10 hours then dropped on the floor I guess I would look a little dazed and confused myself. Mum submerged herself till it stopped moving then crept out the bath and dropped a glass jar over it. She said it could fly off to the hive by itself tomorrow, she’s had enough bee discipline.