Climbing & Kitty Collars

View from the top.

I love it when Chef has time off, but ugh, it's exhausting. I've spent the last few days in a flurry of road trips, hiking, tennis playing and rollerblading. We spent Friday at my mums and on the beach, and Saturday we celebrated Australia Day with Seah & Tezz (and the kids, of course) by having a barbeque. Sunday was the Australia Open Grand Final, and we played a few games ourselves (the standard wasn't quite the same...). Monday involved harnessing the dogs up and going rollerblading, and another match of tennis in the arvo. I was so sick of my feet by this stage and not being able to do anything, I was just doing it anyway. Yesterday we - for some bizarre reason unknown to man - decided to take the dogs hiking. We headed for the You Yang ranges and climbed to the top of the world (or so it felt like) and took in the view at the top of Flinders Peak. After eventually made it back down (after seeing the most amazing Wedge Tailed Eagle and the dogs having hysterics), we bummed around Geelong foreshore for a while before consuming the biggest pizza I have ever seen, and watching Knocked Up and Super Bad.

One of the few quiet moments Sahara & I have had lately.

This morning we both had our animal handing course at the RSPCA, and after we returned and sorted out the issues with our electricity and gas provider (I am now a client of Red, which used 100% renewable and green hydro power, so I'm doing my bit to remove my carbon feet!) we buggered off to the lake to get the dogs out the house, as we had our agent showing through more prospective tenants. When I returned, Cleo was hiding in the back room, and wasn't wrapping herself around me in raptures of delight as usual. I noticed two largish spikes coming from Cleo's collar, and thought she must had wrecked it already. On closer inspection, it turns our either the estate agent or one of the people she showed through the house had inserted pins into the collar to - presumably - stop her bell from ringing. In the half hour from me leaving the witch in my house to returning, someone had, for some reason which is completely beyond me, done that to a 12 week old kitten. I am less than pleased, and have sent her an email - pardon my French - ripping her a new asshole, and demanding an apology.

Bitch hurt my kitty.