Approaching storm

A walk around Cockburn reservoir today finally convinced me that I can’t put off knee surgery any longer. It was agony.
So many folk have remarked how thin Taz is that I made an appointment for him to see the vet. Now the call was made in the morning and I got an appointment in the afternoon.
 Meanwhile M had a minor ailment that needed a visit to the doctor- and the
soonest he could get to see one was a month ahead!
This says something about the state of our NHS.
Anyway Taz came away with a clean bill of health- he is at least 17 years of age, maybe more, nobody knows because we got him from Cat Rescue and they said he was approximately 11 years of age.
I took the opportunity while there to suggest to the vet that she might like to cut his claws.
She declined.
“This cat has issues”, she said as Taz sat in his crate (he is too big for an ordinary cat basket) and growled at her.


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