More ballocks

H-who-is-very-good-to-me is in Hamburg, presumably eating hamburgers. This has left Peter Ballocks on his ownio and at a loose end, to my detriment. I have been treated to Korsakoff phone calls at all hours of the day and night this last week. The first call came at 11 pm at work when I was busy, casually asking if I could 'pop over' to feed the cat twice a day for the next week, so Peter could go lambing. I would love to help out H-etc. (for it is her cat), but this is a big ask on top of the shiftwork. I'm not safe to drive after 12+ hr shifts so this would add about 2 hrs in bus journeys to my day. I compromised by offering 4 days of catfeeding duties, but this was no good to him. There were more calls last night at 10 and 11 pm, even as I told him I was trying to sleep, for some other complicated offers. PB has wheedled me into taking Reekie, the most intelligent dog in the world, for the day, but couched in terms that it is he who is doing me a favour. His plan was for the kids and I to spend all day at their house to dogsit, as if we have nothing else to do. However, it looks like it will be another scorcher today and temporary dog ownership gives a great excuse for a walk.

Yesterday's Family Mediation was as good as these get, even when I slept in and was 40 mins late. We seem to have reached at least temporary rapprochement. The big wan is in a tremendously good mood after meeting by chance a certain girl at the Parliament Building, paddling in the ponds outside with her and receiving a text later. It was in indecipherable teenage txt speak, but apparently sent warm wishes. This then, as with everything else, is gravy!

Update:
The haar is still thick on the hills, but cleared from the Braidburn valley. We took our borrowed Reekster down for a walk, where who should we meet but my mum and Jake the naughty dog, as well as other familiar dogwalkers (Old George, Daisy's mum, Abby's mum, Morag). Jakie is a shaggy dog, and lived up to his name by trying cheerfully and repeatedly to anally rape Reekie, who saw him off with well-placed snarls. Jake is selectively deaf, and despite the enticement of a tic-tac wanted to walk on with us instead of following my (and his) mum back the other way. Since I am Jakie's sister as well as Reekie's auntie, there's surely some kind of incest being perpetrated here. I believe uncle-nephew relations are specifically outlawed by law (or at least before civil ceremonies were allowed, aunt/nephew and uncle/niece). Not that Reekie is a Mary Pure, as his past advantage-taking of the three-legged greyhound proved.

We drove up at 11 am to pick up our dog-sittee as arranged. I explained to Peter Ballocks that I might have a few glasses of wine this evening and therefore might not be legal to chauffeur Reekie back to his home tonight, but could drive Reekie back tomorrow morning. With his usual complete lack of insight, Peter declared this not OK, but that it would be too much for him (Peter) to bus it to my house and back to collect his dog (who I am kindly looking after). It would better instead if I bussed it to his house and back to return the dog this evening. So be it, but now he owes me two cat-feeding visits next month when I'm away for a week in Engerland.

One of the best things about dog-sitting is the mood invoked in Her Catness. She is totally pissed off, but standing her ground in the bedroom growling in the bass and hissing in the treble frequencies. She could quite easily take Herself on top of the wardrobe out of dog range, but this is Her territory! She may be only a tenth the dog's size, but She makes up for it in Self-righteousness.