House sitting, cat minding, deadlining.
I’m in Sydney for a week, looking after a friend’s apartment, and her two furballs. I’m also hoping to catch up on all the writing I didn’t do while the house was overrun by tradies.
It’s a pretty good set-up. I’m just off Hyde Park, so I go for a walk down to the harbour in the morning and at the end of the day. I’ve been getting my reps in at City Gym, about two blocks away, and indulging myself in microwaved bachelor food from the Woollies Metro around the corner.
I did get some feline murder vibes from my two charges when I first arrived, but it feels like…
Wait…
Oh God.
Oh no.
She’s right behind me, isn’t she…
I'm definitely getting a Ernst Stavro Blofeldvibe from the photo.
My cat LOVES sitting directly behind my head on my recliner. And whacking me in the face with his tail.
I also bought him a very expensive new cat tree for christmas and the little shit has flat refused to use it. His old one was broken, had a distinct lean, and a wobbly top section. It was well past its lifespan when I rescued it from the side of the road when I unexpectedly adopted Mr Bastard several years ago.
He also got a top of the line ceramic drink fountain but still howls at me while I am in the shower to make the sink tap work so he can get water all over his head while pretending to drink.
Cats.