Yesterday was National Black Cat Appreciation Day. I’m a little late to the party because my life is complicated, but I don’t want the occasion to go unmarked. My Zulú is too dear.
He’s home with a crippled sitter. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, but three days before our departure, the cat sitter skyped from Norway to say that she’d suffered a bad sprain and a fracture on her ankle and was now on crutches. And what did I want to do? Well, since she doesn’t have to walk the cats as she would if I had dogs instead, and since we had to leave, I asked her to come anyway. So she requested a wheelchair from the airline, hobbled in and slept in the living room the night before we left. We found out she’s a vegetarian of the pescetarian variety and also has an extreme aversion to gluten, so feeding her was a little knotty. But she’s very good natured and we’re all good sports, so that seems to be working.
I’m writing this from the airport, filling in three unexpected hours as our plane was late and we missed the connection by minutes. Traveling today is not for the faint-hearted.