Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra bits in between.

Wednesday October 10th 2018

It’s four o’clock on Monday morning. Isis is sleeping soundly downstairs. Daisy lies purring on my chest. She’s pleased that I’m awake. A cat enjoys a bit of attention in the early hours.

I’m not at all pleased, just damned tired. And anxious about tomorrow.

This is the thing: Daisy has only two thyroid tablets left. Hairy One’s anal glands are desperately in need of attention, and we still have no car, so we’re going to the R.S.P.C.A. in a T.O.A. animal friendly taxi.

Now, in days gone by, first border collie Feather and later terrier cross Ellie travelled happily to New Street Station in T.O.A. taxis and always behaved perfectly.

No worries there then. But we’re talking about Isis and Daisy,

so plenty of worries this time, hence I lie awake, foolishly running through all the possible disastrous scenarios.

So who should I put in the taxi first?

It has to be Daisy, of course, as Isis is sure to panic if I leave her in the taxi while I go and fetch Daisy.

O.K.

My left shoulder is still healing so I’ll not be able to lift Isis into the taxi. What if she refuses to get in? What if she growls and barks when she smells a driver she doesn’t know? What if she harasses poor Daisy for the whole of the half hour journey? What if she refuses to stay sitting down and I have to hold on to her at the same time as preventing the cat carrier from sliding around the taxi floor?

Another thing – she’s always very resistant to walking the last few yards to the door of the animal hospital, and requires much cajoling. It’s going to be very difficult to persuade her to walk while I’m carrying Daisy.

Oh my dog! She’ll smell of anal glands on the journey back. Better pack plenty of wipes and some dog deodorant.

And then there’s Daisy. You can’t take a cat to its litter tray and tell it to “Go now because it’ll be a long time before you get another chance.” As all cat owners know, there’s no way you can disguise a kitty poop in an enclosed space like a taxi.

I have alarming fantasies about the driver evicting the three of us from the taxi half way to Frankley Green.

Of course, Daisy might spend the journey hissing and growling at Isis. That’s less likely though. She’s always silent when she’s nervous. The poop scenario is much more likely.

My brain runs through all the stuff I’ll need to take with me. It’s a long list:

disposable gloves, a roll of kitchen towels, a black bin back, anti-stench spray and spare puppy training pads to reline Daisy’s carrier if the worst comes to the worst

a bottle of water, cloths, deodorant, an old sheet for Isis to lie on in transit, and where did I put her safety harness and the attachment which fits into the safety belt clip?

I finally drop off shortly before five a.m. and the taxi will arrive at eight thirty.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!

This nail-biting drama will be continued.

Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk