Adios furry friends.

No this is not my farewell speech to you all......aside from anything else I'm assuming that whilst many of you may be considered my friends, none of you fall in to the category of furry, although stranger things have been known. 

This morning we buried our beloved Daisy.  So beloved that I have probably never mentioned her before, more out of guilt than anything else.  For the last two years she has sat in the corner of my dining room (caged of course) a constant source of recrimination and a reminder of my failure as a pet owner..... or rather the childrens' failure, and my failure to beat them hard enough.  Since about day seven of entering our home she has barely had any attention, love or indeed on some occasions food and water even.  Evil bunch....but probably no more so than the majority of hamster owning children, these rodents being the quintessential consolation pet for a child desiring a furry toy which breathes.   Little do they realise that the 'cons' of a living fluff ball  by far outweigh the 'pros' (of which there are none) and thus it has been a continual grind to make any of them take responsibility for her care.

Having said all that Charlotte was still distressed by her death, which incidentally occurred due to natural causes and not from neglect.  I think.   She found Daisy collapsed in her cage last night.  Rather than accepting the creature was dead though  she instead entered a denial phase, suggesting Daisy could simply be weak with hunger so propped her lifeless body up at the feeding bowl.  It was at this point my efforts to keep an empathetic and sorrowful expression failed and I began my nervous laughter.  Nervous because I have never had to deal with a dead pet before and laughing because a  stiff hamster propped up at it's bowl with Charlotte trying to encourage it to eat reminded me of the Monty Python Parrot sketch.  My laughter then sent Charlotte in to a whir of emotion and she fell in to my lap in floods of tears.  Poor love. 

We finally agreed to leave Daisy where she was for the night, just in case by some twist of fate it was merely a stroke or perhaps even the Lazarus Syndrome I mentioned a few weeks back.  My major anxiety at this point was hoping Charlotte didn't go to bed and pray for an actual Lazarus style miracle.  I may be a cynic but I'm fairly sure God wasn't going to raise our hamster from the dead.....at least I hoped He wouldn't because the relief I was feeling at not having to clean out the cage this week was profound.  Anyway morning came, as they always do (unless of course you're Daisy the hamster), and sure enough she was still there even stiffer and colder than the night before.  Finally Charlotte conceded that the animal was indeed dead - gone to the massive hamster ball in the sky - and for the first time in years we are a pet free zone.  

At this point I should probably mention the fact I had been considering having a dog, in fact beyond that - we'd even got to the planning stages so it was more than just mere consideration, but in light of recent events  I have decided well and truly against it.   Primarily the advice last Weds from Tracey, who quite candidly and astutely reminded me that with four children, tight finances and perhaps even a full time job on the horizon, there really is no room in my life for a dog...(.a true friend always gives you the advice you need regardless of whether you want to hear it) and knowing as I do how much she genuinely has my interest at heart, it did make me stop a moment and think.   This house is no place for an animal, or not one that wishes to be fed in any case.

Meanwhile on a completely different tangent I am back on my healthy eating and exercise regime (number 86345 this life time).  I realise that the two are inextricably linked and so to succeed I must attend to both hence Corrinna has arranged for my mum, my dad and my parents-in-law to join forces this birthday and pay for a year's gym membership for me......which is an amazing gift.  It's times like these when you realise there actually are some benefits to being married and having separated parents, and of course how wonderful having a sister is (she is also contributing though I love her for far more than just that......big love Mrs W).   Shame about my plastic surgery fund, but maybe, just maybe if I actually use the gym for a year I could get away with just a face, boob and thigh lift.  We'll see.  In any case if yesterdays 'session' were anything to go by I may not last the next year.  Corrinna took me in for my first taster and today when I woke my tummy muscles hurt (at least now I know they are still underneath there somewhere), my shins ache, my knees are creaking and my arms are so sore I can barely lift hand to mouth to eat.........perhaps that's the key.

So it's six more sleeps until my annual 'get morbidly depressed at the degeneration of one's body day', and already I have been given the gift of a years gym membership AND (get this) a weekend trip to Barcleona.  I am beginning to feel like the winner of "Play Your Cards Right", that and a complete sponger.  Another good friend had been asking me to go away with her for ages and finally she has booked it as a birthday treat, although not for a couple of months so plenty of time to get in tip top shape, enough to attract the attentions of a rich Spaniard who will whisk me off on his yacht to sail the seven seas in a torrent of passionate bliss (sorry to ditch you and all that Joanne).

As if.  A one-eyed, toothless continental gypsy offering me a croggy on the back of his knocked off  jet ski more like.

x