I think it is Autumn. This is last of the blue hydrangeas, the rest have all rusted into tired purples.

Summer has seemed pretty darn endless thus far, and what with all the walking up steep hills and complete absence of air-con that Wellington affords, I am starting to tire of it. I am sure my chilblain stricken August self will look back at this and exclaim at my spoiled ignorance, but I do kinda like bad weather, and Autumn means the beginning of the Knitting Season! Ooh, my little Firefox weather add-on just changed it’s forecast to drizzle! I love a good drizzle.

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He looks so deep in thought here. But his thoughts really aren’t that deep.

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Well Rio is home.

As expected, the first time I saw him i collapsed in a big salty puddle, but the vets were consideration itself and left us alone with him in the consultation room with a buzzer to call them once we had composed ourselves. 9 days later (too long!) we were able to pick him up and it looks much better, the fur has grown back a little, and it has made all the difference.

I was off sick from work when they called for me to pick him up. I changed out of my pyjamas, into an outfit that was as close to pyjamas as is socially acceptable, and decided against showering, removing the mascara under my eyes or looking in the mirror. So of course as I strode into the vets, with my greasy hair plastered against my face, they asked if they could film us for Japanese television.

The only time I could pick him up was late afternoon, which meant that I too had to brave the hideous Marunouchi Line crush. Jess and I now have matching blood-spurting wounds. He howled like a grieving old woman, and thrashed possessed inside the bag, gnawing frantically at the sides of the bag. None of the other commuters came even close to cracking a smile, they just pressed their eyes shut a bit harder. He then weed all over me and pooed inside the bag. Nothing like the stench of cat piss to endear you to your fellow commuters. A kind young guy gave me a seat and he calmed down a little after that. A little girl in a pea-coat and her grandma got on next to me, and the little girl couldn’t stop giggling every time he let out a low gurgling reow. Her grandmother tried to stop her laughing, but it was beyond her powers. I opened the flap to show her the cat, and he was pressing his contorted face hard against the netting with a little bit of fang and claw hanging out. She enthusiastically told me he was kawaii, which i thought was a generous assessment.

a blurry picture, but how cute is his face squooshed up by the bandage?

The wound.

Close up

Right this minute Rio is relaxing in the post-op room of the vet, sans one gammy leg.

My heart has been in my mouth all evening. I am totally nervous about him making it through the operation. I am scared about crying when I see him and am sad I have to spend the next nine nights all alone.

Jess took him in this morning, on evil rush-hour Marunouchi Line, and Rio was so distressed that he reowed constantly and bit through the carry bag, into Jess’s finger. Apparently, the wound was very deep and spurted. Probably did not go down well with the jam-packed salary-men.

I just hope that this is the end of it and from here on in he will be a happy and healthy three legged cat.

Poor Rio.

Last night I noticed he was not his usual self, hiding in his little house and biting me every time I got too close. Well, actually, the biting is standard practice. But then I realised his gammy leg was a bit gammier than usual, and he couldn’t put any weight on it. As a kitten, Rio was found outside a mountain resort with about 20 other strays. He stood out a to the kind-hearted girls who spotted him, due to the bone jutting out of his leg. They fixed it up, and though we momentarily thought we would have to amputate, all was well. We took him to the vet today, and the infection is indeed back. We had further tests done, and will find out tomorrow what the next step is. More than likely it will be the big chop. Jess might finally fulfil his dream of owning a pirate cat after all.

Introducing our Rio.

Not this Rio:

Or this Rio:

Definately not this Rio:

I’d like to think he’s a little of this Rio:

And clearly, he’s a lot like these Rios:

incidentally, this is awesome.

he is fairly vicious, both of us are sporting flesh wounds. luckily he makes up for it by doing stuff like:

biting his tongue while he sleeps

misunderstanding the sleepwalking concept. he’s halfway there!

and fighting gold twisty ties.

sadly, they seem to be quite evenly matched. their fights often end with him backing slowly away, ceding defeat and trying not to incur further wrath.