Tag Archives: cats

I Like Long Walks On The Beach …

me… I also enjoy cosy nights in front of a log fire, watching a romantic dvd and snuggling up with the one I love, the snoogly-woogly peep.

Don’t we all?

Especially when we’re writing dating profiles. Is there anything worse?

My first attempt was at least honest:

Slightly, chubby, divorced 42 year old with stroppy Teenager and confused cat seeks soul mate. P.S. I have MS. Apply within.’

I didn’t post it.

Now I am of a certain age, and have been single since being brutally dumped when I was first diagnosed with MS, I think it would be kind of nice to have a Significant Other.

Someone to share a croissant and hot chocolate with? Maybe we could browse around a second-hand book store before linking hands and wandering to the nearest cafe. We would navigate the cobble-stones and laugh when I tripped. Again. We would exchange smug, knowing looks.

He would Understand. He would smile at my speech hiccups, when I swap consonants and slur (just a little). My Scottish accent would of course win him over. He would take my arm and guide me when he saw that I was weaving around like crazy.

I can picture him, rugged face, scarf (I know, weird, huh?), piercing eyes. If you find him, please let me know.

Back in the real world, I have read all the advice. First and most importantly, the majority of people meet the love of their lives in work. Last Thursday I was surrounded by nine men. I was quite overwhelmed at one point and had to take a Diet Coke break.

However. Four were scaffolders (all married), three were solar panel electricians (all married, one unhappily), two were plumbers (both married).

So that’s a no-go then.

Next piece of advice is, ‘talk and interact with everyone you meet, they may just surprise you!’

Erm, ok.

I went to the Co-Op and lurked around the steaks. Aha. A man. ‘Um, garlic butter or just, you know, butter?’ I asked, with an artfully-raised eyebrow. He scarpered. I was the strange person in the steak place. It’s come to this.

I slunk home, defeated.

I re-wrote my profile: ’42 (but don’t look it), divorced (happily), one Teenager and no cats. MS. Apply within.

So far, zero replies. But you never know?

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IMG_0015Sometimes I hate how life works.

Someone thumped my door on a dark and wintry night this week. It was never going to be good news.

I mentally ran through who it could be. The Teenager was safely upstairs killing zombies, Ocado had already delivered and we never seem to get political canvassers here, although I was more than ready to take them on.

I answered the door, pulling my cardigan around myself. A frantic woman stood there, pointing at the road, ‘do you have a black cat? About this big?’ She made a tiny size with her hands. I could see by her face it was hopeless.

I rushed down the path but I was too late – my beautiful constant companion, Dora, had already died. She had been knocked over. Gone. Just like that, in an instant.

I hope I don’t sound too melodramatic. For me, cats are special when you have MS and spend more time than usual at home. She slept on my bed every night, we tussled over duvet rights, she brought presents of half-chewed mice and birds which she laid reverentially in front of me. When I slept in the afternoon, she would curl up on my feet on the sofa, her purrs competing with the nerve pulsing aches.

We listened to Tweet of the Day together every morning on Radio 4 before breakfast. She defended our cottage, a not insignificant feat for a cat so utterly tiny. She basked in the slices of sunlight beaming on to my desk when I was agonising over an essay for university. In short, she was present.

Outside my house, I gathered her in my arms, called my mum (aren’t mums great?), and we mourned together. Dora adored her and could hear her footsteps a mile off. In vain, we took her to the vets. The nurse checked her over, re-wrapped the blanket I had taken her in and sadly handed her body back to me. Would I like cremation? No.

My boss and friend helped me bury her today, just outside my window, in the spot she slept in during the summer months. We talked about when I adopted her from Cats Protection. When I got her home, she seemed so entirely comfortable within just half an hour, as if she was meant to be here. And she was.

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