Citrus-y nose followed by a faint hint of diesel, so says one of the wine buffs. He was reviewing a bottle I remember sampling many years ago. It was back in the days when the wine lake was being filled with some big fruity stuff from the southern hemisphere; and Jilly and Oz were on the telly giving it big fruity words; and Australian wines were filling the rack, the French moved along to the end of shelf in the supermarket. It might even have been around the time we all lost our taste for the sweet German stuff, and anti-freeze.
Anyway I was minded of those days and in particular a cunning piece of branding from the New Zealanders who put Cat Pee In A Gooseberry Bush on the market. It’s still around, and indeed that is exactly what our man was discussing.
We had a similar experience at the weekend, but I’d recommend Cat Pee On A Feather Duvet to no one. Little rogues, those new arrivals at The Towers, especially the youngster, boy kitten. We’ve had a few episodes, though messages in the bath are easily coped with, if annoying.
But a sodden king-size feather duvet is not a good move; and seeping through onto family history papers went down even less well. Why those papers were not on The Genealogy Room is not a subject best raised. Let’s just not go there.
A quick visit to those wonders of MumsNet tells me we are not alone; kittens and feather duvets seem to have a mutual attraction. But this is cat number five in this household over the years, and it’s a very unpleasant first for us. The Law of Sod of course applied as well, coming as it did on a day when there was no chance of the washing line coming into use. And today it looks as though the deluge may be set for the week. Laundry is a problem.
Anyway, cats and littering, that’s what I was going to talk about. Good old Jake always usurped the litter tray, preferring the great outdoors, which is just fine and dandy with me. But we’ve had to install a tray for the new arrivals, and the same mix of wood-based litter and shredded paper they had at the sanctuary. But they had a tray each there, not one smelling of another cat, even if it is a nano-second since it was cleaned and re-filled.
This tray is on a daily cycle. Back in the days when Penfolds and Shiraz were the go-to plonk No 1 cat was happy with a weekly clean and re-fill. Modern cats seem to be a bit more particular.
The ironic thing is that little boy kitten, who is eating so much he won’t be little for long, is desperate to get outside. He watches the birds in the gardens, the chickens sheltering under the hedge, and he wants out to play. I’m pretty sure he will spend a chunk of his time in the great outdoors, using the litter tray no more. But he’s another jag to get first and that can’t happen for another week yet.
But one more love-in with the duvet, with any bedding in fact, will soon see him discovering the joys of Scotland’s weather, jag or no jag. Now, what’s the number of the dry cleaner? Anyone got the corkscrew? I don’t care how it is on the nose, I need a drink.
PS There’s a kitty training package arriving soon; train them to use your loo is the modern way, no litter, no mess. Fun times lie ahead. I’ll be sure to let you know how we get on. Sauvignon Blanc anyone?