Neighbour Cat

Remembering Clare

September 23, 2015 by

U&R meetup in Glasgow

Two weeks ago my friend Clare passed away and I miss her so much. She was a beloved member of the Up & Running community and a huge part of the last four-and-a-bit years, sharing so many globetrotting adventures and thousands of forum words with us.

I’ve been writing down fragments of memories, to make sure I get down all the good things I don’t want to forget.

Like the U&R 5K Course of Summer 2011, where we met. For eight weeks she ran around Glasgow, reporting back wildlife sightings and witty observations, with an uncanny ability to find the positives in even the crummiest run.

The magical Bologna retreat in 2012. A chatty, rainy 6K race with Clare, Julia K and Honor. Dodging puddles and striding along the colonnades, already plotting the next meet up.

Back to Bologna a year later. I started the race in a grumpy, pathetic mood but walking with Clare and Honor upturned the frown as we made a game of overtaking the competition.

A marathon weekend in Edinburgh, when U&R buddies flew in from all over. I’d found a bargain night at the swanky Missoni hotel and asked Clare if she’d be my roomie, even though it made no sense for us locals to stay in a hotel. Of course she was up for it. We lounged in the bathrobes, plundered the “free” mini bar and took all the fancy toiletries home.

A few weeks later, a rainy Sunday cheering on the awesome Paula G for her first Half Ironman. Roomies again, and agreeing wholeheartedly that the pillows in Paula’s cottage were far superior to the Missoni’s.

Barcelona last February, Sunday morning sunshine. The rustle of bright pink pompoms that Julia K brought all the way from Texas, cheering on our half marathon heroines. I’ll cart those pompoms to every race now ’til they fall apart.

A year ago this Sunday, our living room here in Inverness. Clare scratched Neighbour Cat behind the ears in a magical spot that made her collapse into a happy pile of purrs. Gareth has got the move down pat but I can’t bloody do it! And of course he won’t show me how. I think he likes being custodian of the Clare Technique.

The geeky conversations on the joys of organising and spreadsheets and lists and stationery and the art of packing light. Texts before each U&R meetup about what colour we were painting our toenails. The ongoing discussion about the search for the perfect cross body travel bag. Light enough to walk around a city all day, but stylish enough not to look like a tourist. It’s very important stuff!

I loved Clare’s kindness and compassion. If anyone was going through a difficult time, inevitably the perfect card would pop through the door, with just the right words inside to bring a smile and sense of perspective.

Then when faced with her own illness, she was matter-of-fact, dignified, honest about her fears. Quietly courageous. Hopeful.

I used to hear the phrase they lived life to the full and thought it meant daredevil stuff like bungee jumping or swimming with sharks. But now it makes me think of Clare. The way she filled her life, with purpose and intent. Fully present.

Clare… I’m forever grateful for all the random internet clicks that happened for our paths to cross. And more grateful than ever for my treasured U&R friends and the crazy, precious bond forged over our keyboards.

I miss your calming presence, your thoughtful observations, your wicked wit. I can just hear your melodious accent saying the words you’d said before in all kinds of situations, Och well. What can you do? You’ve just got to get on with it. But you were so wonderful that you’ll have to let us be with this sadness awhile longer.

I’m celebrating too. All the friendship and good times we packed into those too-few years. We’ll shake our pompoms and raise many a gin and tonic in your name. You will always be with us, along for the next adventure.

The long goodbye

September 3, 2015 by

There’s been a development in the Neighbour Cat situation.

First the crap news: our lovely Neighbour moved out two weeks ago. Noooo!

The (temporary) good news: Neighbour is between houses, so was searching for a place for Neighbour Cat to stay a few weeks while a new place is sorted. Long story short – thanks to a chance conversation, Gareth volunteered us for cat sitting duties!

It’s been a bittersweet couple of weeks – all this top quality Neighbour Cat time, but knowing it will be over any day.

Watching a bug on the ceiling, in the company of a hooded Gareth

Watching a bug on the ceiling, in the company of a behooded Gareth. How shit are those curtains, btw.

Once the cat flap was locked next door, she adapted quickly to the new arrangement. It’s not much different from before, it’s just the naps are longer. She finishes each day snoozed upon either the couch, the office chair, the foot of our bed , or on a folded up pair of Gareth’s tracky dacks (sweatpants). Gotta be the navy ones with the red stripe.

Gareth thinks I’m paranoid but I think she thinks we’re rubbish compared to her Real Owner. I’ll catch her staring plaintively out the window, ears perking up when car tyres crunch in the driveway. Gareth says she’s probably watching a spider (she doesn’t chase birds, only insects) or plotting her next fight with our other neighbour’s cat. But I dunno. Sometimes she has this withering look that’s all, “I see you, and I find you lacking”.

Yeah, that look.

But I’ve more besotted than ever. Withering looks aside, she’s a sweetie and no trouble at all.

I also love the way she eats. “Like a gannet” as her owner warned. I’ve been re-reading Intuitive Eating lately and she’s a champion intuitive eater, clearly never swayed from her natural instincts by glossy magazines or crash diets:

She’s in tune with her appetite – when she’s hungry she lets you know by a fixed, steely stare and/or by nudging the cat food box to the floor.
She eats only what she really wants – I made the beginner’s error of buying Kit-E-Kat instead of Whiskas and Her Majesty would have none of it.
She eats with unconfined joy – at first savouring slowly, then working up to an all-out scoff, chunks spraying out of the bowl in an arc.
She stops when she’s full – and saunters off, knowing the Inadequate Substitute Humans will tidy up, then plops down on the rug for some elaborate grooming.

I promise you I’m not going to turn into a crazy cat lady around here. I’m more convinced than ever I don’t actually want my own cat, I just like knowing this cranky, fluffy, hilarious one.

I’m going to miss her so, so much.

Aerial view of the ever-hungry house guest

Everyday Life: June 2015

July 9, 2015 by

June started out grey and miserable, weather wise, all the better backdrop for this magnificent wheel cover thing.

We did a soggy trek up to Fyrish Monument, a hill that offers panoramic views over the Cromarty Firth and beyond. It’s not meant to be a particularly strenuous walk but I’ve done nowt but strut around the flatness of Inverness city centre the past two years, so my face was good ol’ Call The Ambulance Red. From the Wikipedia:

“The Fyrish Monument is a monument built in 1782 on Fyrish Hill (Cnoc Fyrish), in Fyrish near Alness, Easter Ross, Scotland, on the orders of Sir Hector Munro, 8th of Novar, a native lord of the area who had served in India as a general. As the local population were being cleared off their land, employment was a problem and so it was built to give the locals some work. It was said that Sir Hector rolled stones from the top of the hill to the bottom, thereby extending the amount of time worked and paying the laborers for additional hours.”

Neighbour Cat celebrated one year of visiting by taking a snooze on the very same spot where it all began.

Aye, I bought these coz of the packaging.

There was that one sunny day!

I did a lot of walking around the river in June, often pausing to perch on this handy contemplation log.

June’s greatest achievement was figuring out to use the iPhone’s Panorama feature properly. I’d been hitting the shutter every time I moved the phone along the scene, like my digital camera of 2001. But you only press it at the start and finish. DERR! Here is Bught Park looking mighty green.

I love this jewellers in the Victorian Arcade.

Highland blur from the train back north after Mogwai.

The ethics of a guest cat

May 2, 2015 by

It was Mumsnet that gave me the guilts. As much as my cat-owning friends said it was common for moggies to adopt second homes, we had mixed feelings. One afternoon she was yet again snoozing on the living room rug, fluffy belly-up like a sheep about to be shorn.

“Do you think this is right?” Gareth said, “She comes over here an awful lot.”

“I know! We better throw her out. Do you want to do it?”

“Well, she is asleep. It would be rude to disturb her.”

“Yeah, she should finish her five-hour power nap, right?”

While we waited we told Google neighbour’s cat keeps coming over, and it sent us to various discussion threads on Mumsnet, Netmums and similar, each full of outraged cat owners whose traitorous beasts had been hanging out next door.

Dignity. Always dignity.

One neighbour had bought a visiting cat a sparkling new collar.

Another had bought the cat a new collar and its own cat bed.

Another said their neighbour smoked and would douse the moggie with stinky perfume to try and disguise the smell!

AIBU? cried the wounded owners. Which I now know means, Am I Being Unreasonable?

YANBU! came the replies! You Are Not Being Unreasonable! It was highly illegal. Highly immoral. The neighbours were “batshit cat thieves”. They should be reported to the RSPCA. They should be reported to the police!

Were we batshit cat thieves? This came not long after I’d read Takashi Hiraide’s The Guest Cat, which for some reason had jumped out at me at the bookshop:

“A couple in their thirties live in a small rented cottage in a quiet part of Tokyo. They work at home as freelance writers. They no longer have very much to say to one another.

One day a cat invites itself into their small kitchen. She is a beautiful creature. She leaves, but the next day comes again, and then again and again.

New, small joys accompany the cat; the days have more light and colour. Life suddenly seems to have more promise for the husband and wife…”

The woman in this novel not only fashioned a bed out of a cardboard box for Chibi the Neighbour Cat, she would regularly fry her up a mackerel and cut it into little pieces and leave it out in a special dish.

“We’re not that bad!” I said to Gareth. There are no box beds nor mackerels round here. We’re basically being used for a quiet place to sleep. She’s still mostly indifferent to us, zipping back out the window as soon as she hears the tyres of her owner’s car crunching on the gravel driveway.

But my guilt came from feeling so emotionally attached to a strangers’ cat. I have no interest in any other cats, I’m just besotted with this one. Yes, our poky wee bathroom is damp and dark so the window does need to be opened a lot to prevent mould… but really, all day, in the dead of winter? Deep down I knew that every time I heard the plip-plop of paws leaping from window ledge to bathtub to bathroom floor, my sad and lonely freelancer’s heart skipped a happy beat.

So I decided to come clean with Neighbour Cat’s owner. It was time to put an end to this cat borrowing, as much as it pained me to do so. I met her in the car park one morning.

“Hi! Umm… have you got a minute to chat?”

“Oh!” she said, “Is it my cat again? Has she been bothering you?!”

“No! Not at all. It’s just that she comes in almost every day, and I thought you should know where she was. And also to assure you we’re not cat-nappers! She just comes in through the bathroom window and finds somewhere for a snooze.”

“She really is a sweet cat.”

“Sure is,” I said casually, though inside I was screaming SHE IS THE GREATEST!

“Well… just chuck her out if she starts to annoy you!”

“Will do!”

So far she hasn’t annoyed me, and she still chucks herself out when ready.

Exit

NB: The comment form is not working properly for everyone the moment, my apologies. In the meantime we can chat on Facebook if you like!

Everyday Life: February 2015

April 24, 2015 by

Another month, another snowy jaunt down the A9…

I was also back in London to hang out with some our lovely Up & Running Alumni members to celebrate the book coming out, including a DIY 5K that began in front of Buckingham Palace (Rhi and I had planned the route at Christmas).

Julia left Jennie and I in charge of her son Evan for a couple of hours. First act of child minding: “Climb up on that lion, kid!”

Now here’s the Neighbour Cat photo of the month.

I like to think she was dreaming of being a dancer in the Thriller video…

There were glimmers of sunshine amongst the grim and grey. This was from a walk on the Black Isle, not far from the brewery.

I loved the second paragraph of this unsubscribe email. When I’m looking for airport parking I’m looking for the bargain of a lifetime!

The lovely in-laws Mary and David came up for a visit. I took them to the Botanic Gardens to contemplate the cactii, which I like to do when it’s maximum miserable outside.

ORRIGHT LADS? HOW’S IT GOIN’?

I’m sorry this is such an uninspired update! Aside from London, February was a real zombie of a month. I’ll make a better effort to open my eyes in March!

Phoning it in

April 12, 2015 by

I remember Jillian Michaels screaming Don’t phone it in! during in her 30 Day Shred DVD, probably as I slumped on the couch pouring water over my head. I haven’t done that DVD in yonks but that phrase stayed with me. Don’t phone it in. Don’t half arse it.

Yet here I am at 11.30pm with my Blogging Pact deadline closing in, the Conservative Party oh so close to collecting £5 from me. I have no excuse, just bloody disorganised. Can I blame The Mothership’s impending arrival? Not really. She is low maintenance these days and no longer says things like, “When was the last time you cleaned underneath the oven?”.

Anyway, I have an action plan for next week. I’m putting down the phone.

By the way, does anyone watch The Americans? I don’t know anyone else who watches it so I’m dying to talk about it. It’s the 1980s, Matthew Rhys and Keri Russell are KGB agents undercover in the US. There’s gazillions of terrible wigs and Keri Russell is so badass that Felicity is forever banished from my mind.

Here is Neighbour Cat. Her latest thing is dropping by to Sleep On A Bag. A wheelie suitcase, my handbag, my gym bag, and here upon a pile of grocery bags. She just curls up then shall not be moved for three hours.

Neighbour Cat

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