When I was 9, my grandma, Damo, died. We adopted her kitten, a beautiful little white cat called Topsy (I think there was a sibling called Tim, but we just had Topsy). Lorraine doesn’t remember her being a beautiful little white cat, only an annoying white cat who would always find navy blue items of clothing to sit on, but there we go, I digress. I loved Damo, and so her cat was special to me, and so I loved the cat too (probably less so as I got older, but my memories of my 9yo self are definitely that I absolutely adored her!).
Anyway. When the time came, my parents decided to get Topsy spayed, and so duly took her off to the vet. I assume I must have been at school as I don’t remember being involved in any vet visits, but I do particularly remember the cat coming home after the op.
She had the standard shaved flank and wound with stitches from the operation. Not only that, but there was dark red BLOOD on her white fur and pale skin. I guess it was perhaps the first time I’d seen a proper wound like that and I was so upset and outraged that someone could do this to my cat!! I don’t know how my naive mind had thought that they would do this procedure, but I certainly hadn’t prepared myself for the horrific (or so I thought at the time!) sight before my eyes. Topsy was so white, and the awful thing was so red and dark – it just looked terrible 
I ranted and raved, apparently, at my parents for letting the vet (a) do such a cruel thing and then (b) not clean her up properly – I don’t remember that particularly but I mentioned it to my Dad the other day and he remembers the event well too! I blame him for not telling me what to expect 
Anyway. Suzie is being spayed tomorrow. This has brought the memory of Topsy’s spaying back to me, so I’m not really looking forward to picking Suzie up from the vets at the end of the day! Stupid I know, but these deep rooted traumas are hard to get over, you know.
I have made sure I’ve prepared my children
Prize if you can tell which film we were watching when this photo was taken
Everyone is home now, although they do keep trying to escape for the odd night here and there. If one kid is away, another one usually fills the space with a friend. We’re enjoying just being at home and having lots of time to chill. Steve and I are working a bit but not *too* much 
They all had a wonderful time in their respective places: Abbie and Joe chattered incessantly all the way home from Mill on the Brue, and clearly loved every minute of it. Likewise Anna has been full of her Romania experiences. I can’t persuade any of them to actually write it down for me though
Suzie quite likes having them home, and has transferred her affections to the girls and is sleeping in their room at night, much to Steve’s disgust. She’s getting bigger, hungrier, and more adventurous; we lost her out of the first floor window yesterday, onto the conservatory roof – no-one knew until we spotted muddy footprints on the windowsill after the event! We’ve been letting her out into the garden when one of us is there and she loves it – not sure the guinea pigs love it quite as much though.
We’ve done the horrible back to school shoe shop and topped up on a bit of stationery, so that’s out of the way. I’ve even done some mending; just a couple of new nametapes to sew on. Joe got some new strings on his violin and was impressed with the sound. Suzie tends to stop and stare at whoever is playing music in this house, then dashes off to hide somewhere. I do wonder how it sounds to her?
