This morning's lie-in was once again rudely interrupted. Not as you might think by a cat throwing up under the bed (that woke me 15 minutes prior to my alarum going off yesterday), but first by a rather hopeful boiling of the kettle, then by a considerable amount of clanking and some screaming.
Cats wail. They do not scream.
Sighing mightily, I decided that further sleep was not going to happen, so proceeded into the kitchen for coffee. Little did I know what was in progress on Twitter...
Yes. They'd suspended the poor thing from the kitchen cupboard by her pull ring. By the time I got down there the Makies had scampered and she'd managed to get herself vertical, but was dangling precipitously over a bowl of rather hot water. Apparently, they'd promised her a hairwash.
The poor girl was rescued and given some hot sweet tea.
Plink and Melchett are now banned from leaving the study without my express permission. The Blythes are re-grouping on the windowsill and plotting their revenge.
Oh, for a quiet life?
*That would be the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Blythes
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