cat-sitting continued.

Tuesday: Went into work to find everyone had been ill over the weekend. Like brave little soldiers we all trooped in and spent a day comparing symptoms, sad bunch of hypochondriacs and drama queens that we are. Glad to escape to Catsville. Holly makes a fashionably late entrance for supper, Boyfriend Cat turns up bang on time. Rumpole has rediscovered the joys of silver-ball chasing, and is very nimble for a fat cat. Elvis is staging his own version of BBC Springwatch, gazing contentedly into mid-distance at nothing in particular. They all turn up as I'm leaving, to show a bit of affection. No plaintive meowing as I abandon them, just a 'Bye, then!' and they all trot off to their preferred cosy places. Back home, Eric (Chief Reservoir Mog) gives me a gentle head-butt in greeting. The others just mooch about and sniff distainfully at me.