Our poor cat
farewell Lots

Lottie as a small kitten

Our poor cat caught TB – TB of all things – and with great sadness we asked a vet to put her to sleep on Sunday night.

Lottie (aka Lotkin, Lot-ma-trot, Lots, Lot-face etc) was a small cat, a tiny little scrap of fur and bones from the start. Frank used to bully her, but she had her ways of showing him who was really in charge. Lots could climb a tree faster than he could yawn; she could run, dive and wriggle through the tiniest holes at top speed. She was a great hunter, enjoying all sorts of snacks from worms and slugs to birds and mouses. Maybe that’s how she picked up the TB infection that did her in.

She wasn’t as home-loving and people-centered as Frank was, but she was affectionate on her own terms. She enjoyed curling up on Kate’s lap in the evenings, and permitted all of us to give her head-scritches at certain scritch-critical moments. She wasn’t what you’d call a loving cat, but she loved us. And we loved her.

Her final weeks were sad, mostly just sitting still and struggling to breathe, not allowed to go out and enjoy the garden where she spent most of her life. Poor little Lots; in the end, the kindest choice was to help her go. TB is relatively rare in cats, and it’s a horrible disease.

We’ve now lost two cats in 2 years, and there’s no doubt they’ve left a fur-strewn hole in our family and our lives. It’s just not the same to come downstairs in the morning, and not be greeted by tiny fuzzballs clamouring for their breakfast. We missed Frank before, but now with Lots gone too, we’re missing both of them even more.

Rest in peace, little Lots. If Frank gives you any hassle in the feline afterlife, do what you used to do: scamper up the nearest tree and give him a look of pure contempt. He’ll ignore you, but then at least he’s ignoring you.


November has been really busy with workshops and training sessions, and one thing I’m learning is that facilitating sessions like these makes me very tired.

There’s something very brain-intensive about managing a room of people (virtual or otherwise), guiding them through, remembering to say the right things, looking out for questions, rapidly coming up with useful answers, making sure everyone has a chance to speak, and keeping to time. I always come out of sessions like this gasping for a big drink of water and a bit of a lie down.

Which, I should stress, isn’t a complaint. I’m not moaning about the good fortune I have to do this for a living.

It’s more of a note-to-self that I need to allow time for recovery and reset after each session. There are implications for my diary and my availability. Another thing to learn.


Phil has made Ooh! Directory, a list of 800+ blogs, mainly as a way of responding to people who say “Nobody does any blogging anymore.”

I particularly like the Random page.

Nice one Phil. Very nice one.


More links:

This is why lawyers can be prone to pompous language such as “hereby” and “hereinafter” as the idea is that the words on the page that are themselves (magically) creating things. If a document is an instrument then for it to have the intended (magical) effect then certain words and phrases (spells) have to set out (incanted) in a certain way. And if those words and phrases are not set (incanted) in a certain way then the instrument fails.

Filed under: notes
(25 November 2022)