The Garden Fence - proper Old Style support and chat!

Softstuff

mardatha wrote: »

Ohhh I forgot all about black pudding!!! I havent bought any for ages, I must sort that this week.
SS friend breakfasts don't have any carbs and you don't put weight on.

I sound like a sort of evangelist for this eating plan, but I can't highlight enough what it's done for me. GPs are really getting on board with it here too, recently hubbys bosses wife was advised by her GP to cut carbs. My GP is all over it.

ivyleaf

Polly It's been nearly 30 years since we had a kitten. We keep having to work out where to put things so that he won't hurt either himself or them...I can't remember whether I mentioned him licking the grater the other day after I'd been grating cheese :eek: My friend said when I told her, "Oh, you could put the grater through the dishwasher, that'd sterilise it!" She was bemused when I explained that I'd been more worried that the kitten would hurt his tongue (He didn't, as far as i could tell.), and of course cheese isn't good for cats.
And my new pair of rubber gloves has found a "safe house" in the slow cooker. Yes, I will take them out before I use it

ETA I console myself that he's a lot less hard work than a puppy would be!

Witless

pandamonium wrote: »

Ooh Witless, is that Irish white pudding or Scottish?

Is there a difference? (Serious question)

pollyanna_26

Oh he had a lucky escape with the grater Ivyleaf Our cat used to eat the oddest things including melon , bolognaise minus the grated cheese and many other human things . His favourite food was roast lamb . My oven back then had a glass door and he would sit drooling looking through the door until the joint was cooked . it was a nightmare trying to carve the meat as I used to have to keep pushing him off the worktop . My son used to buy him packs of crab sticks and they'd sit together with son peeling off strips and saying one for you one for me . We always had cats since I was a child and I miss having one so much but he was hit by a car one night and a lovely neighbour brought him home . I couldn't do that to a cat again and circumstances mean sometimes we'll be out for most of the time anyway which isn't fair . I've got a lovely photo of him on the mantlepiece and sometimes if I curl up on the sofa I often feel him curled behind my knees where he used to settle in the evening . We buried him in his beloved back garden and youngest helped make a little headstone from reclaimed welsh green slate . She wrote the date and his name and He was a Person and I had to hold the tears until she was in bed . There's a rosemary planted there in remembrance .
I hope you have many happy years whether yours grows up or like ours opts for Peter Pan mode and stays loopy but lovable .
polly x

monnagran

Polly, the cat of my heart was a ginger Tom called Oscar. My son brought him home to me at 3 weeks old because his mother had died leaving 3 kittens. Oscar was the only one who survived. The vet gave me special milk to feed him with. He was having none of it. Minced chicken or nothing. I also had a German Shepherd called Sharma, and she took this kitten over and reared him. I have pictures of this enormous dog with a tiny ginger kitten asleep between her paws. Sharma loved to wash him so enthusiastically that his fur stood out in spikes. He stood it so long, but when he'd had enough he bit her tongue.
I have photos of Oscar sleeping in the fruit bowl stretched over oranges and bananas. Oscar peeping coqettishly fron between the branches of the Christmas Tree with all the destroyed ornaments hanging drunkenly at odd angles. Oscar sitting on an antique chest looking like an expensive ornament.
He couldn't catch a bird to save his life, but he did once bring in a shrew to play with that bit him on the nose, and he was a demon destroyer of moles. I used to find their poor dead bodies laid out on the kitchen floor.
He also caught rabbits that he brought back to the cottage and stuffed through the cat flap for Sharma to eat. I cleared up the blood when I got back from work.

The first night I had him he slept tucked under my chin and that was always his favourite place. On his last night with us, when I knew the end must come for he was old and blind, he slept under my chin again, though he nearly suffocated me. In the morning his fur was wet with my tears.

I couldn't take him to the vet for his last long sleep. My darling son did that for me.

I've always had cats since I was three years old. Some of them were lovely, but they were just cats. Some of them became part of me. Oscar lived in my heart and utterly possessed it for all time.

nursemaggie

That's a lovely story monna you always tell them so well.

maryb

The cat of my heart was my darling Mog. Black and white and utterly sweet natured. She used to watch out for me coming home from work and run down the street towards me mewing with delight. And it wasn’t cupboard love, either. I was sharing a house with my sister and she got home before me so Mog had already been fed

Witless

pandamonium wrote: »

Ooh Witless, is that Irish white pudding or Scottish?

Just checked the packet in the fridge - the last one is/was Polish.

fuddle

Is anyone else amused that Witless has to state he's asking a serious question?

Softstuff

fuddle wrote: »

Is anyone else amused that Witless has to state he's asking a serious question?

I should think he'd be fairly used to having to state that