The great man is he who does not lose his child's heart. (Mencius, Chinese philosopher 372-289 BC)

Sunday, 24 February 2013

The One With The Cat, The Mountain and The Sick Bowl


The Signs of Spring before the "Sick Bowl Incident"

We have had an eventful week.

My lovely wife and I are in training for a midsummer charity challenge - the climbing of 24 peaks in 24 hours in order to raise money for the charity Caring Matters Now (click on the links to find out more) - so we planned a fantastic 4 days with friends in Snowdonia National Park where we would climb mountains, chill out with our favourite people and feel much better about the challenge to take place this week.

That didn't happen.

First Murphy the cat got dangerously ill on Sunday night (why do they always get dangerously ill when the regular vet is closed!) - so we had to rush him to the emergency vet in order to pay them as much money as possible and confine him to pussy cat hospital for 3 days. Murphy was so ill that it was possible that we could lose him so the decision was made that I would stay home and look after him once he was allowed out. So, no Snowdonia for me.

Wednesday morning the rest of the family drove off into the distance for 4 days of mountain climbing, chilling and feeling better about things. I retreated into my man cave and waited for news of my furry friend.

Furry friend survived and is now carrying on as if nothing has happened (he doesn't have an overdraft!)

Days 1 and 2 went swimmingly for the lovely wife, the signs of spring and the Dubmeister - a walk up the mountain, lots of chilling and lots of mutual support that the whole challenge wouldn't be so bad after all.

Then came day 3.

Then came the vomiting bug.

The bug which swept through the children like some medieval plague. One by one they fell to the charms of the sick bowl.

Things got so bad that the decision was made to leave 1 day early and so on Friday (just after I had posted my Dad Alone! confession) the call came that they were coming home.

We have spent the weekend feeling sorry for ourselves and wishing that we were as carefree as Murphy, the death cheating feline.

Speak soon
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