I have spoke before about taking control of my life, making choices that have been important to me, and accepting full responsibility for my actions. But then something happens which screws everything up.
I have plans to go out, see places, be free to go where I want, whenever I want. I want to take off at a minutes notice, on a whim, suddenly pack a bag and go. Because that's how I have been living my life for the past 30 odd years. Yes, I have gone to work and had a job to do, but once out on the road I am in my own little world. The great outdoors is a huge attraction for me, and only those who have lived like this, understand. I am not a home bird, never have been.
When I had my Bugsy 14 years ago, I was at a low ebb, a relationship had broken down and he came along and cheered me up. We rub along nicely together. Lilly joined us about three years ago, an elderly cat looking for a comfortable loving home, so all is fine, two oldies that are happy mooching around. I can have a long day out and they will look after themselves, or friends will come in and feed them if I go away.
This year has been a good year, I've been to lots of places, seen lots of interesting things, and sensed once again the freedom of the road. The feeling of movement, of going somewhere, of anticipation, of unpredictability, of planning an adventure, that is what I am all about.
But what do I do about the little pussies? At the moment they are sleeping in their little room. They seem happy, but they are becoming curious as to what lies beyond. Who are these other cats that come and look at them through the wire mesh barrier, where are they going, what is through the door, and why cant they go into the garden.
I am asking everyone I know, if they might know of some kind person to take them in. I thought they might have a better chance if they were in Sue's rescue pen, and also they would have a lot better view in her garden than in the little room here. Maybe it was a bit presumptious of me to expect her to take them in. It was me who decided they couldn't stay in a car, I chose to have them here.
They have been here for eleven days, perhaps I am panicking a bit too soon, but all I see is my freedom ebbing away. These little pussies have found a way into my heart, and I am torn. I have never been able to cope with emotional stuff, yet I sit here in tears. One half of me wants to run away, lock the house up and never come back, but the other half says face up to your responsibilities and take them in. Now you can see why I have never had children, I just couldn't cope.