I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I think my cat might be disappointed in me. He’s giving me that look again…the one where he seems both derisive and disparaging. It must be something to do with the house, because I haven’t gone anywhere in three days.
The dishes? No…I’ve done them all. I do them all very quickly after I’ve eaten, otherwise I get the same disappointed look until they’re washed, dried and put away in the cupboard. The laundry is exactly the same deal. Pleasing this cat is mostly what keeps my house clean and tidy, for which I’m very grateful.
Ah…I haven’t called anyone for a replacement hyperbaric chamber. Melbourne is a dangerous place full of pollen and other nasties, and I happened to say out loud at breakfast the other day that I really should call those portable oxygen chamber people, because I’ve really been coughing and sniffling a lot more ever since we had those lightning storms and the wind kicked up all the dust and pollen. Antigone must have heard me, and he knows that I haven’t done it. Yep…that explains the look.
He’s very on-the-ball, that cat, although this time he has a vested interest. Antigone likes it when I have to go inside the oxygen chamber, because he gets a break from my company. I can only fit the oxygen chamber in one room, where it takes up most of the space. And while I’m there Antigone gets free reign of the house…as in, more than usual. I’m in there getting my lungs cleared, while he’s stalking around outside, snoozin where he likes and inhabiting his miniature summer palace.
I still need to make the order, though. It’s been so long since I looked up hyperbaric chambers available in Melbourne, but things are heating up between us, and Antigone’s brow continues to furrow. I must make haste, before the disdain becomes too much to bear.
-Fintan