To Flee or Not to Flee

So yesterday we woke up and the dog had a bald patch right by his tail. I took him to the vet and they found a solitary flea. (This is despite all the pets using the vet approved flea combo treatment). It turns out that although the flea liked our dog, our dog is allergic to flea bites. And because of this weird weather we’ve been having, the traditional treatment or ‘Spot On’ is ineffective. I left with my wallet considerably lighter, and him on antibiotics and a massive tablet to get rid of the flea, plus an enormous house spray for all the other friends that this flea may or may not have brought in. Before I left, the vet asked me to bring in the cats so that she could check them over, and if they also had little friends she would give me a tablet each for them. 

‘Tablets?’ I said feebly – ‘Can we not just have the much stronger Spot On that you recommended?’  I agreed on the proviso that she would administer the tablets as I know what hissing scratching fighters these fluffy balls of fur become, and she said confidently that she had a very good success rate with the most stubborn of cats.

Today it poured down.  I drove back from work through 8 rivers that had materialized on the roads over the course of 4 hours.  Cars were aquaplaning, breakdown vehicles were scattered throughout various points of my journey and several times the whole car was submerged in splash backs from the puddles I was in, or cars travelling in the other lane. Cars were abandoned in side streets where rushing water hurtled against closed garage doors. My 4 x 4 inched slowly down our unmade road, where even the potholes were submerged under a muddy stream.

I had lined up G to help me with the cats, who fought, legs spatchcocked as they were posted into their cat boxes which were popped into the car as they continued mewling furiously at the tops of their voices. Suddenly there was an overwhelming smell of cat poo – the boy cat had messed himself in distress.  We carried the cat poo smelling box and grumpy cats into the vets.  Two greyhounds shuddered dismally as we entered and huddled together looking at the boy cat’s box in suspicion. A poodle jumped joyously at the girl cat’s box until she spat at his eager face.  This was not going to be easy.

The vet took the girl cat out of the box.  She is a lap cat, an absolute doll and the easier to handle of the pair. She was a dead cert. ‘Ahhh’, cooed the vet, and reached for the tablet whilst telling G to hold the cat firmly by the shoulders.  Two broken tablet feeders later, the vet and G stood there bleeding from scratches, whilst Lap Cat hissed silently, mouth clamped firmly tight. Boy cat, who is a very gentle natured sun lover, but doesn’t tolerate too much handling, came out of his box which was speedily despatched to be cleaned up as she attempted to check him over.  He was having none of it, the indignity of his situation was just too much.  He sank his claws into her arm.

We went home with the stronger Spot On which is applied to the back of their necks and kills everything bug related.  The vet agreed that it was a much better idea after all.  Peace amongst the felines has resumed.

So now I am seriously thinking of buying an Ark, where we and the animals can live in case these floods get worse.  But there’ll be one creature in God’s world which won’t be on that boat. 

I’ve got enough spray to make them all flee…

Blogging Circles

This morning I woke up at some ungodly hour to the sound of scampering in the corridors.  We have recently changed all the floors to wood – with the only carpet being on the stairs (the budget didn’t stretch to a new staircase) and although it has helped brilliantly with cat and dog hair maintenance, it is noisy.  So it wasn’t the scampering scuttling noises that bothered me so much, more why it was happening at 4.30 am?

Leaving G happily snoring in bed, I donned my dressing gown and headed downstairs.  The dog was sitting at the foot of the stairs looking sheepish (in a Collie type of way) and very much awake.  Top Cat was sitting in the doorway of the kitchen, and Lap Cat was busy trying to post a live squeaking mouse into one of G’s work shoes. (I don’t blame the mouse for squeaking – there’s no way I would go near one of G’s work shoes either).

I’ve had a lot of practice at this mousing thing.  And I’ve learned that if you can grab the mouse by the tail and hold it upside down, it goes into a state of semi paralysis, which gives you just enough time to unlock the back door and deposit it safely into a flower bed for more adventures.  This mouse was no different, and Lap Cat charged after me, bellowing in frustration as the dog ran into the garden barking joyously.  It was 4.35 am.  I was awake, the pets were awake, and meanwhile everyone else slumbered peacefully. 



So what did I do?  Well, I watched a documentary on the shootings in the high school in Columbine on Channel 5+1 – I had had no idea there was a Channel 5+1 – and then the channel closed for the morning.  I flicked idly through the stations, wondering if I had time to crack into my Breaking Bad dvds, but knowing that I would get too caught up in them and still be sitting there when Little Man’s bedhead eventually appeared for breakfast.

So I decided to read some blogs.  And then I decided to comment on the ones that got my attention.  Let me get this right out there – I blog because I like to write, I am essentially a story teller, and if there are readers out there that want to read my stuff, then I will carry on telling my stories.  I cut my teeth on a little fun blog An Irish Dog when we got a puppy (and it still gets views today even though I haven’t written a post for a year), and branched into PantoMum when Little Man auditioned for a pantomime. I’m not really interested in accolades, awards or millions of accolytes hanging on my every word.  I’ve nothing against that, and if it comes with the advanced ages of blogging, or if I and my audience don’t get bored, then bring it on.  But I’m not really actively courting it all.  Really.

There are a number of blogging collectives out there – my favourite at the moment happens to be BritMums.  It is a friendly group who encourage new bloggers to join in with their activities.  I’ve always hated Jolly Joining In things, but even I have been seduced from time to time by their ‘linkys’ and competitions. And if you follow the founders on Twitter, they follow you back.  I like that personal touch, it costs them nothing, but makes a newbie happy.  And of course you can see how the old hands blog.
 

A while ago I wrote a tongue in cheek post about the Ma-fia, you know, those groups of women that form inner circles with ‘a common purpose’ – it may be football mums, aerobic mums, school car park mums.  You get that in blogging too.  This inner circle have won countless awards, they work hard and play hard.  They live and breathe the world of blogging, and reap the rewards.  Other bloggers circle around them, occasionally allowed to play or join in.  Others like me just watch and learn.  

Most of the inner circle, when approached directly through comments or contact on social media, are lovely and supportive.  One such lady is Alice Elliott.  Known through her multi award winning blog as The Fairy Blogmother, she writes and delivers helpful hints on how to write and promote your blog.  She recently published a post telling us why interaction on blogs was essential and urged us all to leave comments on other blogs, and more importantly to respond to those on ours.
 

Over the past two weeks I have left a few selective comments on other blogs.  I think carefully about what I say, as not only do you expose your views to the author, but to the worldwide web.  And in most cases it takes a bit of effort to comment – you have to leave your name, your email address and prove you are not a robot (I’m not joking). And so most of my readers comment on social media (I have a closed Facebook group for my blog, and have recently become a Twitter user), or if they are friends they simply tell me what they think.  I was at a dinner party once, and a lady came up to me and said, ‘I read your blog last night’, ‘Oooh’, I said, ‘Which post?’  She went a bit red, ‘All of them’, she said. ‘And the dog blog – I’ve subscribed by email to them both.’ It took her three hours. That’s dedication for you.

But back to the comments.  Following Alice’s advice I commented on some of the established bloggers' posts and those of new bloggers, or indeed, any blogger that took my fancy.  Alice, you may be surprised to hear that 3 out of 4 of the old hands didn’t acknowledge or respond to my comments.  Not even a smiley face.  Nada.  They responded to the more established bloggers' comments. That’s the sisterhood for you.

And the newer bloggers responded with joy via social media, on the blogs, Google Plus (still don’t get that) and anywhere they could get hold of me.  It was good to talk. A big shout out to Becky Wilkinson, Donna Wishart, and muslimmummies to name a few.

Of course, I welcome any comments on my blog – whether they are scribbled below, on social media or via carrier pigeon.  I will respond as soon as I can – but I warn you that I am strictly a Blog and Go chick. I have a life.  And I will probably be asleep by midday. But I will get back to you.  I promise.