Long Golf and Dangerous Napping.

We finished the Belair house sit, or more precisely Roger finished the Belair house sit as he got to do all the cleaning and packing and final tidying while I lolled about with the next cat, claiming post-sinus-surgery lolling rights and sending him text reminders of things he may have forgotten.  The Belair cat developed separation anxiety and vomited on the floorboards in protest at the upheaval to its little life.  Roger did not appreciate the gesture and left anyway.

It's hard to put fresh sheets on the bed when the cat insists on contributing.

You can't go. I'm left here all alone! Who will feed me? I am a poor forgotten cat...

While all that was happening up in the hills, down on the plains the Big Fluff barely deigned to say hello to me, merely demanding a good brushing before he wandered off on his morning inspection of the unit complex (and no doubt a second or third breakfast from his loyal subjects).  His owners were off playing golf on the longest golf course in the world, which is something that would be on my to-do list if I were a golfer, which I'm not. Mind you, the longest golf course in the world exists primarily to slow people down in their headlong rush across the Nullarbor and if Big Fluff's owners' decision to leave several days early in order to play golf is anything to go by, it's working.

Not being allowed to ride my bike, I went for my prescribed 'gentle walk', no more huffing and puffing up steep Belair slopes for me!  Instead I wandered through the suburbs taking photographs of roses in suburban gardens bursting with flowers,

...under suburban trees dripping with blossoms.

And ambled down beside the Torrens River which was full of water, the tall thick grasses just starting to dry off.  An optimistic trio of ducks came to say hello, hoping for food.

One little duck with (if you look closely) a curly feather on its tail.

Coming home to nap in a comfortable chair, I realised that Big Fluff has found a new sleeping spot. He rotates sleeping spots regularly, spending up to a fortnight in one before moving to another. They're usually random spots with varying degrees of risk to the napper: the bathtub; the top of the external A/C unit; inside the wardrobe; right behind the front door. His new spot:

On the carpet in front of the comfy chair, right where your feet go should you wish to sit in the comfy chair.

I've already nearly stood on him twice. You'd think he wouldn't trust me and my big galumphing feet after I stood on him in the kitchen not two months ago but he doesn't care. He's Big Fluff, and he naps where he naps and the rest of the world just has to move its feet. It's a winning attitude. Lo and behold I took myself off to another seat and Big Fluff snored on, unperturbed.

Cat 1: Me 0.