Zero comments on this and the previous.
A disengaged public?
Posted by Anonymous to Our Town and Its Business at 15 August 2016 at 21:01
None of the above.
On Sunday evening, I received a message from my cousin in Scotland . She had received a message from me that I was stranded and send money immediately.
Skullduggery was obviously afoot.
It took until yesterday for Stephanie to restore Ipad to somewhat normal. It's not the same as before. The return has been sporadic. Comments to blogs I posted were the last to be recovered and posted. A nasty missile was first to appear. I couldn't help feeling I'd been missed.
One argued putting up a sign notifying truck drivers that children play where it would be utterly suicidal for children to play, makes obvious sense.
Such a sign would make no more sense on Murray Drive, Kennedy Street West, Aurora Heights Drive, Orchard Heights ...all are through roads from Yonge to Bathurst.
In their right mind , no-one would suggest any are safe for children to play. And they don't have retail /commercial on both sides of the road at the intersection where Henderson Drive sign is posted.
It was a week of computer disruption But it didn't end there.
On Thursday,Stephanie came up with Calico Jack cradled in her arms.
"He's not well.Grannie . He hasn't eaten for two days and last night he was pacing the floor and crying". She had to take him to the vet ... a decision not lightly undertaken. Vets are a costly business.
She came home alone, weeping. The cat was in renal failure, needed morphine to relieve the pain
At sixteen, likely had reached the end of his journey. We wept together. The decision would be made on Monday.
The thought of him spending his last days in a cage in a strange place with strangers was too much.
On Saturday, she brought him home. He took over the bathroom which seems to be his favorite place.
It's small and compact and has a soft welcoming mat on the floor. Stephanie transported cushions for herself. He promptly took possession of them as well. She had to inject the drug and he offered no resistance. Never moved from the bathroom. An air mattress was retrieved from camping equipment and Stephanie made her bed close by.
C.J. Is still with us. The encampment has since been dismantled.
During the day he stretches himself in familiar splendour on my bed, where he knows he is not normally welcome. He is eating again and fighting the injections.
The house is no longer filled with foreboding.
For all we know he may have eight lives left to live.