All by myself again!

Way-aye, Roscoe here.

Today I’m in Bertie’s old run. I’ve been here since Thursday morning, when the man came to do the walls again. On Tuesday Mam put me into Biggles’ run, and put Biggles in with Neville, when she brought us in from the garden. She told me off for fighting with Neville.

I wasn’t fighting with him, I was just telling him to get out of the tent because I wanted it. He was fighting me because he didn’t want to move. He always does this. Every time I’m wanting to sit somewhere in particular, he’s there, hogging it. I’m fed up with it. So I don’t know why Mam blames me. Anyway, she put me in the run on my own, and actually, I quite like it.

I do sometimes miss cuddling up to Nev. I lay beside his run the other day, thinking he might come and chat, but he went to the other end. I don’t know why he doesn’t want to chat. Same reason he didn’t want to move, I suppose.

He’ll come around to my way of thinking in the end, and then he’ll want to sit beside me all the time. Then Mam will see we want to be together, and we’ll probably change runs again.

Mam’s thinking of changing the runs because she likes the new wall and doesn’t want to hide it any more. I like the new wall too. It’s a lovely blue colour.

Instead of the way Biggles’ old run was, she says she could make a three-panel run in line with the four panel one, stretching right along the room, and then either have the two shelves as an L shape, or put one of them somewhere else. She says it will be less crowded when the desk is finally put back together.

She’s thinking about changing the door as well.

That’s our Mam. Always thinking.

I think I’ll chat to you next week. We’ll be out of mourning for Bertie then. This is the seventh week since he died. It’s a long time. But it doesn’t seem long at all, too. Time is funny, but other people have said that on here, too.

See you next time

love

Roscoe xxx

We’re in mourning for Seven Weeks

Way-aye, Roscoe here. And it’ll be just me for a while, since Nev and Biggles don’t want to learn to blog. Sorry about that. I hope you don’t get bored with me.

I must never say things seems settled again. There we were, all comfy like, with a nice routine, and then Bertie says “I’m going to stay in my tunnel today.” Then he says “I’m feeling funny.” And Mam takes him to the vet two days in a row, and on the third day he goes over the Rainbow Bridge.

He was only three. Mam says that’s no age at all. She sits with us and tells us things, most of which I don’t understand. I know she’s fretting that she should have realised Bertie was ill sooner, but really, Mam, he wasn’t. Tuesday he was out on the grass with the rest of us, enjoying himself. Wednesday he was a little subdued, but we thought he was just having a tummy upset.

Trouble is, as Auntie Sophie said, he packed an awful lot of character into that little body. Always getting into things he shouldn’t be doing, winding me up so I go with him. I really miss our little excursions down the hallway and into the front room. And everything else we got up to. It wasn’t much fun sitting in among the tents in their storage area yesterday morning, although I suppose I’ll keep doing it, cos it’s nice.

Anyway. Mam says we’ll be in mourning for the next seven weeks, as is right and proper. I’m glad she knows our traditional customs. Seven weeks is the same length of time since we moved in properly, and all Mam’s furniture arrived. It’ll go quick, Mam, don’t you worry.

I wish I could say Bertie will be back with you next week, but he won’t. It’s just me from now on.

Keep safe and don’t go out catching anything.

Love

Roscoe xxxx

midge and percy

We’re in mourning for Midge

Hello everybody, Percy here.

Mummy asked me if one of the others should blog today, but I’m feeling a little better, so I said I’d do it.  I want to talk about Midge of course.  I felt terrible all Friday and Saturday, but Mummy explained it was all right to grieve for someone, and when that someone was Midge, he was bound to leave a big hole in our lives.  I smiled at that, because really, Midge was very large!

I met Midge when I arrived here in 2015.  He’d already been here a year then.  He arrived with his brother Oscar from Auntie Vikki’s home, in the October of 2014.  I was surprised at that because he wasn’t living with Oscar then.  They fell out before it even got to their first Christmas.  I have no idea why.  Midge was a very agreeable chap, and although Oscar could be a bit stand-offish, he was okay, really.  We got on okay, anyway.  I suppose that was the long and the short of it.  They got on with everybody except each other.  I don’t understand it, but it’s true.

Midge and I got together after Kevin died.  Kevin lived next door to Midge for a bit, and I’d moved into his cage when Colman died.  I think that was how it worked, anyway.  It gets confusing.  We call it ‘chase the cage’ and see who gets which one whenever a large or more desirable one becomes empty.  Anyway, Midge and I got on well most of the time.

Recently we’d been bickering a bit.  I don’t know who started it, but I think Midge was just touchy about things.  You know, a simple thing would make him flare up and tell me off.  Mummy says now that maybe that was the start of his illness, but we didn’t realise it.  I know she took him to see Dr Sally with me a couple of times, but Dr Sally couldn’t find anything obviously wrong, and Mummy couldn’t give her any definite symptoms.  But Midge responded to some metacam, so he was obviously in a little pain.  He liked any sort of medicine after that.  Mummy shared an artheritis tablet between us in the evening.  He liked that.  So do I.

We liked it even more on Monday, when we got out into the garden for the first time this year. Mmm, fresh grass. Mummy took some photos of everyone, but all you can see of Midge and me is our backs as we lounge in some lovely long grass in the shade.

But on Thursday, after Mummy went out to her bird club, Midge staggered around the cage and said he didn’t feel well.  Then he fell onto his side and started kicking.  It was very frightening for me, I can tell you.  I went to see if he was okay, and of course he wasn’t.  He was very frightened too. I couldn’t help him back onto his feet and he couldn’t get up, and I could see he wasn’t really hearing anything I was saying to him either.

Then Mummy came home, took one look at him, picked him up and cuddled him on her lap for a little while, and gave him some medicine.  Then she phoned the vet and talked to Dr Louise.  I could hear what she was saying, but it wasn’t very helpful.  She asked what diazapan was, and said she didn’t have anything like that.  Said ‘yes’ and ‘I see’ a few times, then stopped talking and put the phone down.  Then she took Midge downstairs, sorted out our hay and cucumber, and said good night to us.  Oh, yes, she told me not to worry about Midge, she was going to sit up with him all night, but he might go across the Rainbow Bridge.

Well, I think I thought he might, so I went to bed and tried to sleep. I think Mummy stayed awake most of the night.  She had the radio on downstairs.  There was nice peaceful music playing.  Then in the morning she brought Midge up to sit in the carry box while she sorted out our cuddles and breakfast.  He seemed to be sleeping then, but when I came up from floor time he was shaking again. So Mummy took him to the vets, but by the time she got there he’d gone over the Rainbow Bridge.

She brought him home and gave us each time to sit with him and say our goodbyes.

And since then I’ve been sitting in the corner with a piece of paper we were playing with. It still smells of him. So does the tunnel. I like that. Mummy washed his bed because he died in it and she said I wouldn’t like that smell.  I think she’s right.

I want to remember Midge like the lovely cuddly chap he was, before he got grumpy, which now we know was his illness talking.  He was such a nice companion, and I really enjoyed chatting with him and snuggling up together when we needed a bit of support.  He was ever so kind about my lump. Mummy says he may have had a lump on his brain that we couldn’t see.  I’m sorry we couldn’t see it, Midge. I hope you’re feeling better now, and I’ll see you again when I come over the Rainbow Bridge.

love from Percy.

Bertie hides

Trouble and Strife

Percy here today. It’s been a difficult week. Mummy spent a lot of the time out – even stayed out two nights (Wednesday and Saturday). She left us lots of food so we were fine, but we got a bit tetchy and nervous.

Bertie was a pain, particularly on Friday. Mummy was in then, and told him to behave. He kept chattering at Midge; then Midge got upset and started jumping on me. He’s not as heavy as he was, but he’s still too heavy for me and, besides, I don’t need the attention! So I got cross with Midge. Mummy took him out of the run and put him in a carry box to cool off. He was a lot better for a while, then after Mummy said goodnight, he started again. Mummy came in to us and put him back in the box till morning! He grumbled about that, but he was fine in the morning.

Bertie was still being a pain on Saturday, but we put up with him a bit better. Mummy says he’s going through “a stage” and he’ll grow out of it. He’d better do that soon. Mummy threatened to swap him over with Biggles, who we get on with much better.

Another thing he did on Saturday: he went out of the back door! Only Hugo has ever done that before. Mummy heard a noise out on the patio while she was cuddling Oscar. She went to look, and saw Bertie coming back in!

Well, at least he was back inside. She’ll be keeping a good eye on him in future.

Dylan used to roam the garden, checking up on everyone, but he never went outside on his own. He knew it is Not Allowed. I just hope Bertie has learnt that now. He’ll get into real trouble if he’s not careful.

~~~~

We come out of mourning for Kevin tomorrow. It’s been seven weeks already. It seems a long time in some ways. Mummy says she still misses him loads. But we might have birthday cake on Wednesday – that’s Mummy’s birthday.

Mummy’s still sad

Kevin here today.  Percy did a jolly good job last week, didn’t he?  He asked me to take over today because we came out of mourning on Friday and he wasn’t sure what to say.

Neither am I, of course.  It seems a long time since Dylan left us to go over the Rainbow Bridge, but it seems Mummy’s only really been realising it over the past couple of weeks.  She told me she couldn’t believe he’d gone and it was because he missed Dougall so much, and I think for the first four weeks she was really numb, you know?  And she said for the last week or so she’s been crying because he’s gone, and she missed his geeky face looking at at her, and him trying to bite her nose – just playfully, of course.

I miss him when we’re out on the grass.  There are only the four of us, which means we have lovely big runs, and because Oscar and Midge can’t be left together I stay with Midge, and Percy runs around with Oscar.  Oscar still tries to shake the fence down between us.  He’s a scamp.  I get on fine with Midge, unless he’s trying to be bossy.  But I miss Dylan, and I miss Colman too, when we’re outside most of all.  But I reckon they’re having a great time over the Rainbow Bridge and Col hasn’t got any arthuritis to slow him down, so that’s good.  I’m having the nice biscuits he had for his arthuritis, one after cuddle time every day, and they’re very tasty.  I’m not having tubejuice any more, which is good too.  I wish Mummy would sort out the top of the ramp tunnel, though, it seems to need some glue or something.

Anyway, it just shows that seven weeks may sound a long time but someone very wise knew what they were doing when they made that our tradition.

Mummy took some videos of us on Friday and said she’d put them on our Youtube page.  So if she has, she’ll tell you how to get there at the end of this message.

Have a nice week.  Let’s hope the sun shines and the grass isn’t too wet. 🙂

We come out of mourning tomorrow

I can’t believe it’s seven weeks already since my brother Dougall died.  Mummy says she doesn’t believe it either, and she’s nowhere near ready to come out of mourning.  She says she still dreams of him lying in her arms when he wasn’t feeling well, and she gets very upset about it.  And I tell her that I still think of him sitting next to me, and wondering what’s going on, and me telling him what’s going on, because he couldn’t hear it.

Just chillin

I missed him a lot last Saturday when Mummy got the big noisy cleaning thing out and not only did under our cages, but did the light in the roof as well.  There were big long strands of stuff wafting about, made by the spiders that live up there.  She said they were catching her hair when she walked past us.  It’s always very scary when Mummy gets the big noisy cleaning thing out, and I hid in the tunnel to keep out of its way.  Oscar dashed about a lot, then hid in his grassy hutch, then hid in his fiddlesticks and pulled the hutch to cover one end to keep him safe.  Percy just wheeked like mad and jumped on his ledge.  He seemed to enjoy watching it.  Mummy said she hoped that doesn’t mean he’s deaf, like Dougall was.  It was the big cleaning thing that really made Mummy realise he really was deaf, and that was why she scared him so much when she suddenly arrived in front of our cage.  He would run a mile because she frightened him so.  And he just ignored the big scary thing.  It was funny, Mummy would come in and make the humungous noise with it, and we’d all go and hide (even when Victor and Humphrey lived next door, they’d hide too).  Dougall would just stand around watching Mummy with the stick thing wondering what she was doing.

Dougall on the hammock
Dougall on the hammock

The only thing that’s really changed now that he’s not here is that I don’t have to eat all my breakfast at once.  Mummy asked me if I was okay, because she came down at lunchtime and half my breakfast was still there.  But I can leave it for later, now, because it’ll still be there.  Somehow I think I’d rather have Dougall back, though.

PS.  I went to see Auntie Shirley and Uncle Barry about my teeth last week.  My back teeth are fine, it’s the funny thing growing beside my lower incisor that is causing me trouble.  It makes my gum sore, and I don’t want to eat.  Mummy is giving me lots of dry things like herbs, which don’t sting it, and lots of muesli, which I find easier to eat than pellets, and she’s giving me tube-juice and some aniseed flavoured gel afterwards.  I’m losing weight, but not so much as I was.  I hope it gets better soon.