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It's a bright morning. A pity I have no brightness with which to answer it. I am exhausted, always the sign of a good weekend.
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Yesterday was collapse day, and today could be too, if the sun was less bright; but there are things on my mind, apart from work. First, I got some slightly down news this morning, but never mind, I will not go into it here, could be worse I guess.

And Chav-cat is in trouble. He's limping badly. I haven't been able to follow wildwinter's excellent advice about getting a cat-trap, because while our local Cat Rescue place takes stray cats in, it has no policy of going out and getting them. I have been trying to contact the RSPCA, but no reply on the phones. News from the neighbours; a few houses down, kittens have been born. They swear Ralik's the father, because the dad is a black cat. Can't be Ralik because he's been done. But it could be Chav-cat. Catching him should get easier, because he just doesn't seem to able to use that front leg at all, so he'll come back where the food is easy to reach. Poor fellow.

Other things, other things. Blue sky, so I'm a bit surprised at the roll of thunder just heard overhead. The main thing to remember is that Paris is five weeks from now!

Appraisal

You know your life's gone well off the rails when work appraisal consists of your manager taking you through a meditation and grounding ritual. I am now connected to the earth, the trees and the stars. No raise though.

So Chav-cat , we meet again...

But this time, the boot is on the other paw.

Yes, Chav-cat did as I expected; he came back, the idle bastard, and decided to take a saunter around the conservatory. I saw him and closed the catflap. He panicked and miaowed at me frantically to let him out.

He was still walking with a heavy limp, so I called the RSPCA, and closed all the windows. Sometimes he would yowl at me for release, but usually, he hid behind the sofa. I got a bit more of a look at him. The reason his face is so weird is because he has a huge scar right down the front of it, starting over one eye. Not a pretty kitty; in terms of feline beauty he wins the Rough as F*ck category. I thought he was a skanky old cat, but he isn't. He's quite young. Local Cat Rescue is full, can't take him. RSPCA took a look at him, and magically, the bastard's limp disappeared. He backflipped away from the inspector, leapt on tables and windowsills, did the whole Skimbleshanks routine. The inspector told me she couldn't take him, he isn't wounded. She'll ask the local inspectors to give me a neutering voucher. She told me he looks healthy enough not to be infected with any of the more lurid feline diseases (apparently un-neutered Toms are the prime carriers of the big nasties) and she went away, clearly convinced I'm demented. I can't keep him locked in for days while they faff around with vouchers; he was scared to death. I let him out, and he ran like a convict off a chain gang.

The deal here is that he can run,he can hunt, he's OK. We'll adopt him if that's what he needs; he isn't at all vicious and there but for fortune goes any kitty. Next time I'll just put him in the cat carrier, get him to the vet, get him done and let him be, to go or hang around as he pleases. We'll leave a bit extra out for him.