Granny is immeshed in carers, cats, and continual sneezing. (The wind went back round to the east.) She's immeshed in carers because Beloved's Beloved Daughter was here to see her mother, Mrs R, and to discuss with care entrepreneur her care package. Care entrepreneurs like all other entrepreneurs are in the business to make money; unlike most other entrepreneurs they are in a perfect position to lay on emotional blackmail. Questioning an excessive bill for 'extras' means getting 'you want us to skimp on your beloved's care/ your relative not to have proper care/treats/outings/haircuts?? etc..' All calculated to make his/her family cringe and say yes yes yes to everything. Beloved's Beautiful Daughter, though loving Mrs R to bits, is made of sterner stuff than Granny and Beloved; they tend to crumble under such onslaughts. It has been a wearing few days. More wearing because Granny inbetweenwhiles has been immeshed with the cat equally. Five trips down south to the vet so far and more to follow.
She doesn't think lovely Pedro, the vet, is emotionally blackmailing her. Far from it. Though it wouldn't be difficult to do so given the distressingly stricken state of Feline Houdini.
He is somewhat better, in case you are asking. Diagnosis is almost certainly that he ate a poisoned mouse. His liver - according to all the expensive blood tests - is in a bad way; 'inflamado.' Inflamed to you. Very. His red and white blood cells are low, his cholestral and glucose high. All will recover in due course; in the meantime his diet has to be a cat's equivalent of a sixty year old human diabetic with high cholestral and severe anaemia. Yowl as FH may for his favourite fish, meat, liver etc - and boy can he yowl - for some time to come he will have to content himself -apart from a little chopped up chicken free of fat and salt - with the contents of small - and naturally expensive - tins, designed for animals much older than he is. He will also have to be kept indoors yowl as he might to go out, also. Mice, lizards etc are not on his diet sheet. (Which does not stop him catching them in the house - he has already caught one; but till now he's never eaten them. Let's hope all this doesn't drive him to.)
B's BD has departed now on a plane 6 hours late. Meaning two trips to the airport. The sneezing Granny has solaced herself with an hour playing dominoes down on the coast with Mrs R; domino honours about even, they both enjoyed it She can also inform you that the headless Papa Noel on the roundabout into the town now has a head, which, when the lights go on at night, set him blazing red and silver, he shakes back and forth to the tune of Jingle Bells. (Granny got the tune wrong; sorry about that one.) Papa Noel seems to be this year's theme on the island. Many houses sport fat little figures with sacks on their backs climbing on to window sills or up over balconies and pergolas. All very odd, given that, in Spain, Father Christmas does not bring children presents on 25th December; the three kings bring them presents on 6th January. The anthropologist's term would be cultural diffusion. Wouldn't it? They can keep it.
(No Father Christmas chez Granny and Beloved, incidentally. And their as yet undecorated Christmas tree consists of a large stalk of agave; more 'cultural diffusion'. As Feline Houdini recovers they have to hope he doesn't try to climb it. )
Next post should feature pictures of chickens. Be patient.