*Warning, this post has absolutely nothing to do with anorexia whatsoever*
We have three cats, as well as three children. And they are remarkably similar. Harry the eldest (my marriage break-up cat) is definitely “a bit Aspergers” as we say in this house. He can be incredibly affectionate and then bite, and clearly not understand why you are cross. He loves L best I think, because she is patient and kind. He misses her and sits on the stairs to her room looking mournful. Willow (my turning 40/mid life crisis cat) is sweet and friendly. She is very vocal and chats a lot, but is quite self sufficient. She is clever and loves food, but is incredibly skinny. We often wonder if she has something wrong with her, because she is thin. Fuchsia (my father dying cat) is beautiful, but fearful and secretive. She sneaks in and eats the other cats food. She cannot miaow.
They have fleas. I am allergic to any insect bite and I am covered in them. C has blamed Fuchsia for the fleas because she scratches most. He thinks Harry doesn’t have them but last night Harry was on our bed, looking mournful in L’s absence. Rather than throwing him out, C is gentle and affectionate with him. Harry comes to me to be stroked. I see a flea on his neck, and another. I shriek and throw him out. I am now scratching all over like a slightly demented person. Did I say slightly? Ok, really demented. Today banishing anorexia from our lives takes a back seat. We are nuking the bloody fleas.
There, I feel better now. Sometimes the only useful part of writing is that it stops you scratching for a while.