24/02/2022 Rotten Decking

For the next seven weeks or so we will be living in the leafy suburbs of Adelaide, not that far from Belair National Park and with responsibility for one cat and a swimming pool.

"She's a hot-and-cold cat," said the owners when we met them to pick up the keys. "Sometimes she's really friendly but the rest of the time she doesn't want to know you."  That didn't worry us: we managed to make friends with George so we consider ourselves capable cat-coaxing cleversticks.

The cat had not read her own instruction manual, demonstrating fickle loyalty and strong cuddly tendencies the second she had a new lap in which to sit. Roger, who had the enviable task of moving us from the Air BnB to the house sit while I worked, had no sooner sat on the comfortable couch than the cat was on his lap and there it stayed. He sent me regular photos to update the cat situation.

"I want lunch but I can't get up because the cat is on my lap."

 

"I need to go to the toilet but I can't get up because the cat is on my lap.'

I assume he solved these problems and had a talk with the cat about who was in charge, because by the time I arrived he was up and functioning while the cat lurked in corners and made bids of escape every time we opened a door to the outside. It's strictly an indoor cat but is willing to push that particular boundary if so inclined.

"I'm off to check the pool pump" said Roger, darting outside and shutting the screen door sharply in front of the cat, who sat back and pretended it hadn't tried to get out. Roger disappeared down the steps onto the pool deck.

I heard a loud thud.

That was a loud thud, I thought.  Did he drop something?

Silence.

An agonised yell for help rang out from the pool deck.

Unfortunately the wooden pool deck was not as strong as it looked and Roger found this out the hard way, unexpectedly ramming his leg through a gap that was several sizes too small.

Ouch. Double ouch!

We reviewed the damage.  He was missing a substantial amount of skin, so superficially as to be very painful but relatively bloodless. Bulges which hinted at underlying haematomas quickly popped up and his back, presumably twisted in his descent through the deck, started spasming. Filled with painkillers, he went to bed where he spent a long and painful night wincing whenever he moved.

I'm pleased to report that this morning he's up and about, hobbling around doing a creditable impression of a very old man. The skin will grow back and he will survive to continue to monitor the pool. The deck will be the owner's problem when they return.  In the meantime, we're being extra careful to only walk on the parts of the deck that have a beam underneath them.

And the cat is still inside.

Bowl of cat, anyone?