There ought to be a law against it

Sunday February 5, 2006

I was giving Dolly the Mega-cat a major cuddle, snuggled in my arms, and walking round the house. When you cuddle Dolly you have either to sit down or to wander—there’s too much weight in that there cat to stand still with her. Hard to tell which of a static or a mobile cuddle she prefers; I reckon the workout is better for me and it’s certainly more interesting. Commonly we wander from window to window, looking out, hoping for some sign of life.

Today, there wasn’t any. Not during the morning cuddle. Not during the midday cuddle, and not during the teatime cuddle.

“Do you know what, Dolly,” I said. “We could be the last living creatures on earth for all the life to be seen out there.”

“Prrrrrw.”

“Yup. Even the birds aren’t singing today.”

“Prrrrrw.”

“And if there are any goldfish left in that pond I see no trace of them.”

“Yaaaaah.”

Which is Dolly’s signal that cuddle time is over. I put her down carefully, she shook herself mightily, and stomped over to her nesting place by the big radiator in the living room, turned round twice, and settled down for a good snooze.

Outside, the sky had begun the process of darkening from a dim, featureless grey to a slabby featureless black. A light came on in the window of one of the houses along the lane but I suspect it’s on a time-switch so there’s no guarantee that any direct human involvement was behind it.

So, starting from the living room, I toured the house drawing curtains and blinds, and snapping crucial lights on. Not so much shutting the day out as dismissing it in disgust. Another day of the Great Gloom was done.

They say it’ll be much the same again tomorrow. I say there ought to be a law against it.

 

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