Sarah Todd: A sense of foreboding – have Rosie's nine lives been used up?
We didn't think they'd noticed one of the cats had been missing for over a week. For the last six years there's always been Rosie and Jim.
They're proper farm cats, great hunters and hard as nails. They haven't lived in the house but they weren't wild, they popped in to say hello when thedoor was left open and – unless it was peak baby rabbit season –were never so far from the back doorat teatime.
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Hide AdNow Jim, the black and white one, is hanging around much more. He seems very lost, as if he's more interested in us now there's no sister around.
Rosie was – to be correct – really his brother, rather than sister.
We named them Rosie and Jim before taking them to the vets to be "done". They'd not been dropped off long when there was a phone call from the surgery.
We presumed the worst, that one had not made it through the operation. But no, it was to tell us that the grey and white one was a boy.
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Hide AdThe Husband, of course, was thrilled as it made the vet's bill less. We didn't tell the children and they carried on being known as Rosie and Jim.
I suppose there's still time for her (correction him) to turn up. But, it's hard to pinpoint the feeling of foreboding.
To be honest, her young owner has probably hit the nail on the head – there must have been about eight lives already used up. Coming off worst in a fight would be one thing, but to have been hit on the road by some thoughtless maniac would be another…
A distraction for "her" young owners was spending the last few nights of the school holidays sleeping outside in the tent. It's been grand on my own in the house, with you-know-who out in the tent.
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Hide AdFinally, three days ago, he re-lit the Aga. Well over a month after letting it out for "just a couple of days" when we went to the Yorkshire Show.
Mind you, it is amazing how the pennies add up. Our son's horse muck business is going from strength to strength. In fact, he's had to put the price up from 50p a bag to 1 and still the bags of black gold disappear as quickly as we leave them at the lane end.
Sadly, the daughter's egg business has taken a hit. Somebody stole two dozen and the money which was a rotten trick as all the signs are written in her own hand; there's no doubt that it's a child's enterprise.
Like falling off a pony, it seemed important to get her back in the saddle again.
We're just going down more often to empty the takings. No amount will replace Rosie though.
CW 4/9/10