Without Cats ...

... the flat is very different. Doors to the outside can be kept open, but the bathroom door can be kept closed. Cat fur can be hoovered away for good. The hallway does not mewl gently when you come home from work. Laptops are not trampled, your dinner is safe and the cat treats on the side have no use anymore. Fake mice can be extracted from under chairs, and other chasing toys and the scratching post can be untied, unscrewed and undone. There are no demands for supper, and there will be no sweet furry alarm call for breakfast tomorrow morning. And the gentle sound of Poppy landing on the duvet to knead the covers and swirl lovingly around us to say goodnight before falling asleep at the end of the bed will not happen anymore.

I didn't sleep much last night, just wanted to stay up as late as possible chatting with Charlie-Fish. And so morning came too soon and I was pretty tired, but had a good day of meetings in York, with the sun beaming down on York Minster and a chip buttie for comfort food.

The flat seems very empty without them. I would love to get more cats, but it is just not practical in the short term, besides I think we both need some time to remember Max and Poppy. We were so lucky to have them both, such friendly, happy, personable cats. I don't regret a minute of it, one of the best decisions we have ever made to take them in.

Had a light hearted dinner with Mink and Dave at Pain Quotidien this evening to discuss a games project Charlie has his eye on, was very soothing and pleasant company, especially in contrast to yesterday's events. Especially with the giant pterodactyls outside the Royal Festival Hall.