Well, that didn't go to plan!

Today's post was supposed to be Part Two of Our Love Affair with France, so I must apologise for this impromptu blathering about my gorgeous puss instead. You see, this morning I was happily writing all of it down for you - and it was great (even if I do say so myself!) But when you write something you are proud of things don't always go quite to plan! And this was one of those moments when your laptop decides to go on the fritz and completely delete everything you've written just to pee you off.

I'd added gorgeous pictures and useful weblinks, and had even got a little bit political (so you're probably glad I didn't get to finish it and get it up here on the blog! So, now I'm not entirely sure what to write about. I could tell you about my day - but going to the bank to try and sort out internet banking access for my parents' accounts isn't that interesting, or I could tell you about my swim - which was unusually difficult today and left every bit of my body aching as though I'd run a marathon, and meant I had to spend the rest of the day on the sofa feeling wiped out. But who wants to hear about that?

So, for starters I will post a pic of Bob - because that's always worth doing!

I have to take Bob to the vets' on Wednesday to have his thyroid levels checked because he's been a little bit withdrawn and has been choosing to spend virtually all of his time in the coldest room in the house. We know that these are potential warning signs.

He was diagnosed as being hyperthyroid in the summer. At first we thought he was just a bit too warm when he wouldn't come inside other than to eat and given the weather we were having that didn't seem so strange. It was sweltering and at times I was tempted to go and join him out there under the trees in our garden! But as the nights started to get colder and he still wouldn't come inside, I knew something wasn't right.

Bob has fur like silk. He is so soft it is pretty unbelievable, and his fur started to seem a little coarse (well for him, most cats would still have killed for his soft and shiny fur!) He didn't want cuddles and he was eating like a horse but getting quite thin. Looking back, I should have put two and two together, but I was distracted by the things I was learning about my own health (after 27 years of struggling, I had finally got names for what was wrong with me). It is quite strange that at the time we learned Bob was hyperthyroid that we learnt that I was hypothyroid!

I am your sterotypical crazy cat mum, he is my baby and I started to berate myself for not spotting earlier what now seemed so obvious. But thankfully, after just a few weeks of treatment he seemed to be back to his normal, mischievous self, chasing mice and causing havoc around the house again - but more importantly he wanted cuddles, and that's the best bit about owning a cat like Bob!

The other side of him is much less sweet. When he is with Aidan, Bob is a scratching, biting, squawking, hissing bundle of angst! The two of them play some pretty intense games that usually leave Aidan covered in scratches. Bob has sharp claws and does not know how to pull them in! But Aidan seems to enjoy it in some peculiar masochistic way and so I let them get on with it.

The problem is, Aidan is currently away skiing. And so Bob has nobody to let out his furry rage upon - and keeps trying to swipe and bite at me. I'm not having it, as I've got enough to worry about without getting covered in red welts from his razor-sharp claws. So, Bob is up on the landing, sulking and waiting to ambush me while I watch a bit of TV downstairs and pray that he'll have forgotten all about wanting to play by the time I head up to bed!