The saga of the missing roo meat continues.  I commissioned a kind friend to purchase roo meat when she did her normal Wednesday shop at a supermarket
which always has roo meat, even if it didn’t have it when I went on Monday. Unfortunately, the shop had still not been resupplied with roo eat so she returned empty handed.  Meanwhile, Indie had been eating her expensive filet steak, even donating a filet to my tea on Tuesday.  However, I was getting a little desperate to be resupplied with the normal “Indie approved” product.  By the time I reached a local supermarket on Thursday afternoon after an easy exercise session and an hour chasing ancestors in the library I was desperate for the comfort of my reclining heated chair and didn’t have the energy to chase everywhere looking for roo meat.  The supermarket which had no roo meat on Monday was now selling just expired meat at a discount.  I gambled and bought a packet.

 

I opened the roo meat yesterday, fed Indie some and froze the rest in small piles for later.  All went well until the wee small hours.  Indie cried and cried.  She has approved of her meals and been well for the past several months so I’d forgotten how awful sleep deprivation caused by an unhappy cat can be.  She was very clear about wanting to go outside.  Having been caught with that previously  (put the cat outside, start to drift off to sleep and an hour later the caterwauling begins necessitating yet another getting up to let her inside) I placed her beside one of her kitty litter trays and disappeared to bed.  She was under the bed before my head hit the pillow.   We both returned to sleep without any more fuss.  She has slept most of the day apart from taking time out to eat one of the defrosted roo patties and to present herself at dog feeding time for a little of their “vet unapproved for Indie” pet mince.  And I hope she can sleep well tonight and approve of her early morning snack.

 

Son Number 2 heeded the call to delve in the roof space today.  My memory of its
contents was 2 Christmas trees and an empty computer box.  Several boxes, a bag of clothes and a small fan heater made their way to the floor along with a goodly volume of dust and leaves.  The Christmas trees are still there.  Son Number 2 didn’t lay claim to the heater or clothes and disappeared off home after disposing of the unwanted boxes.  Sometime later, and after dusting the bag I embarked on an archeological investigation into its contents.  It was a bit of a trip down memory lane.  It contained lots of specialized work and sporting clothes organized neatly in plastic bags and kept for posterity.   Both Sons 1 and 2 had exactly the same work and sport clothes background but I don’t think I’ll need to send out the photos of the bag and heater to identify the owner.  The suspect son is about to board a plane.  Unfortunately for me it is not to return home and claim the multitude of items I have been harbouring knowingly and seemingly unknowingly for years.