To Do-ne List (the cattery, laptop security and life in general)

So, how’s it all going? Well, good, but a bit stressful ...thanks for asking!

The To Do-ne list is getting smaller, but is still quite large and scary. About 80% of the house contents now resides in the donga in boxes labelled A-Z or 1 - ∞ and their innards methodically logged in an Excel spreadsheet for easy (ha) relocation. The walls are pretty bare and cupboards look a little like those from the set of Ghost Town.

Some of our clothes and linen have been vacuum packed into those plastic sucky bags and now look like compacted road kill.

The gate, the essential loophole closer in the Rotty proof fence, has been wire brushed (by me) and is awaiting a coat of black glossy paint (by me).

*Note – the Rotty hasn’t chased next door’s sheep for a couple of weeks, but he has taken liberty with the open gate and was caught out on the road twice today. He is truly a beautiful dog and we have no doubt that we will have him, nearly, trained and adjusted before we go...but Bundy still glares at him with a ‘WHEN!!!! are you leaving????’ look.

The side veranda, AKA cattery for the daughter's three indoor nutty cats, has now had its slab (floor) laid. Our wonderful friends came to help and due to rain, the ordeal/partying lasted two days, not one. The event was not without its hilarity and tragedies.

Before

Still before, but from another angle...

A night in a day with Mr Bundy

Bundy, or Mr Bundy to most of his Asian internet friends, was named after Stray’s beloved Bundaberg Rum. Stray was sort of tricked into naming him (sorry Stray), because I‘d already chosen ‘Bundy’ before arriving home with him, but it was Stray’s turn to name our next pet. You see our cats have generally been named after drinks, Kahlua, Milk, Ouzo etc. (hmmm, our drinking might be more of a problem than I thought), so after I suggested a few lame names like, Mars, Apollo and Achilles, Stray thought of Bundy...all on his own.

I picked Bundy, formally known as Kat, or should I say, he picked me at an animal shelter. He was petite and ladylike, and now at 2 ½, still is. We adorned him with a belled collar almost immediately, not wanting the blood of any wildlife on our hands. The cat who preceded him and who disappeared mysteriously at a sprightly 16 years old was like a deadly Ninja, but with fur. My home made elasticised collar works well, except for the fact that SNAKES ARE DEAF!!!