Posting days: Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday
This week has been a non-stop merry – and not so merry – go-round, Isis becoming more and more hyper as the days pass. Daily, after racing across the beach and in and out of the water for ninety minutes, she returns to the house and continues her sport, grabbing the nearest object and killing it with much clanging and crashing.
She is very tired but will not stop until she’s put on the lead and made to.
She pees on the hall carpet three times and I lose count of how many times she pees on the vinyl floor in the kitchen.
On Thursday, a new experience for Human. She witnesses Hairy One swimming. H.O. doesn’t intend to get out of her depth. The sea bed dips sharply and there she is, paws not touching the floor. Looking horrifiied, she begins to paddle frantically.
It’s about 2.00 a.m. on Saturday morning. I spot a waving black tail making its way in the gloom towards the window. Daisy cat is on her way outside. Half an hour later, a scrabbling of claws against the outside of the glass heralds her return. A few seconds later, loud snuffs announce that Hairy One has picked up the scent. Silence.
An hour later not even the sound of a snoozing canine can be heard. Deeply suspicious, I switch on the light. No sign of Isis. She’s not in the front room. Nor in the kitchen. Nor the shower room. Could she have followed Daisy’s scent and climbed out of the window?
I sprint into the garden. No Isis.
Dashing back into the house, I glance up the stairs.
There is Isis at the top of the stairs looking very sheepish. One is tempted to leave her there and enjoy the peace. But one doesn’t of course. One picks up the fluffy pest and carries her back downstairs.
This morning I am rewarded for my kindness. As we walk through the waves she changes direction without warning and, losing my balance, I fall into the water. She’s not finished yet though. She bites through her lead and breaks free. Oh hell.
Fortunately, she is preoccupied with working out how best to deal with the section of lead she still has so I am able to recapture her before she runs into a a concrete breakwater post or fells an innocent grandmother taking the air.
Her piece de resistance, however, is yet to come. After her evening walk I shut her in the hall while I make the evening meal. A sudden shriek from Friend alerts me the the fact that Isis is attacking the stair lift. She has the seat between her teeth and is jerking it madly from side to side. Thankfully, when we try it out it still works.
But it makes a strange noise and the footrest sits at a drunken angle. The stair lift engineer will probably have to be called. Last time repairs cost £250.00.
No Dentastix for you, Isis.
Home tomorrow. Friend will be glad to see the back of us.