The Glass Magnet

After having a week off together last week I had very mixed feelings about Monday because Robbie was going back to work (I had an extra day because of the bank holiday). Having Robbie around 24/7 can be challenging at times and occasionally I long for a bit of peace, but I am always sad when our holidays come to an end. I wasn't best pleased about the early start either! 


Robbie is a bit annoyed with me at the moment. He knows that it is unreasonable to get cross about it but, he doesn't like his routine to be changed even in smallest changes upset him. I have bought 6 new drinking glasses without seeking his approval. I really didn't think I needed to consult him about spending the grand sum of £2, but I had forgotten how particular he is about deciding on the exact size and shape of everything in the kitchen. By his standards he did well at hiding his annoyance, but we had an hour or so of sulking and stomping before he resigned himself to accepting the new glasses.  


We wouldn't have needed new glasses at all if Robbie hadn't had such a smashing time recently. I wouldn't exactly say that he is clumsy, it is more a case of things not getting out of his way quickly enough! He has wiped out two glasses and a railway mug in just over a week. That isn't such a big deal but he is like a magnet to glass and every time something gets broken he manages to cut himself. He doesn't have as much feeling in his feet as other people so that is probably why he treads on the glass in the first place. Sometimes the first hint of injury is a trail of blood leading to Robbie, at other times he does something resembling a native American war dance with corresponding sound effects as he hops into the lounge to sit down. Either way the result is the same, me on my knees picking glass out of his foot, then on my hands and knees in the kitchen with the dustpan and brush trying to pick up every speck of glass. I wish someone would design glass proof socks, preferably multicoloured ones that would appeal to Robbie.   

High Rise Cat

I have serious concerns about Dave the cat, just lately he has lost weight but he seems to be eating more than ever and he is constantly on the go, climbing and getting into places that he has never bothered with before. Last week he found his way to the top of the fridge freezer and I have been doing my best to put a stop to that. Yesterday he found his way to the top of wall mounted kitchen units and he knocked down and smashed a large plate and a huge glass domed thingy that you cover cakes with. I spent so long trying to pick up all that glass and china but I am still finding little slivers of glass in the oddest places. I suspect Dave may have an over active thyroid gland so within the next few days he will have to go and see his 'favourite' man - the vet!

Trouble Afoot

On Sunday evening I had just settled down to do some writing when there was a yell of pain from the bathroom. The yell was followed by a string of expletives and then thunderous bumps that indicated that Robbie was hopping down the stairs. He burst into the lounge groaning in agony and dripping blood onto the floor. Incredibly he had manaed to get glass in his foot again, and he was ranting that someone was deliberately leaving glass around for him to tread on. I'm not sure what made me more angry, his stupid accusations or the fact that he had hopped arround the house leaving a trail of blood instead of calling me to the bathroom to help him. He parked himself on the sofa with his foot resting on a chair waiting for me to remove the glass a procedure not made easier by his yelps of agony or by my less than perfect close up vision when wearing contact lenses. I removed the glass fairly easily, it was a tiny sliver of very thin glass, but shutting Robbie up was more of a challenge. I said that the way he walks must have something to do with it because it never happens to anyone else and the sensible thing would be for him to not walk around barefoot. He wouldn't hear of it, so I have no idea how to avoid further incidents like this. I've had a very close look at the bathroom floor and I can't see or feel any glass. I think it must get trodden in on Robbie's boots, and those boot, just like Robbie's feet are a law unto themselves!

Putting His Foot in It. 04.03.08

Robbie has been in the wars over the last couple of days. On Sunday he plunged his hand into the washing up bowl and cut a chunk out of his knuckle. He raged around moaning about the stupidity of putting a knife in the washing up bowl, he had a point, but most people look before they leap! It was a nasty gash and it was in an awkward place but it hardly warranted all the drama and comment.

By Monday evening Robbie's 'war wound' had been more or less overshadowed by the events of the day and Robbie had ventured back into the kitchen. Suddenly there was the unmistakable crashing sound of breaking glass followed within a split second by a volley of expletives. I knew instinctively that it was either one of my glass saucepan lids or a casserole dish, it is never just a glass that can be replaced easily and with little expense. He told me later that it was a saucepan lid that some 'idiot' had booby trapped so that it jumped out of the cupboard at him!

Robbie hopped into the lounge and waved his foot at me, there was hardly anything to see but he was sure he had glass in his foot. On close investigation (with a needle) I could see the glass but it wouldn't come out. I had visions of a night at casualty with Robbie and his foot, that prospect spurred me on to 'do the deed' at home. Eventually I got a flat sliver of glass out of his foot, it had gone in deep and had turned so that it was hard to get out. He seems fine now, there is only a tiny little wound but it was deep do he will have to make sure it doesn't get infected. Somehow I doubt that this incident will stop him from trotting around the house in PJ's and bare feet but you never know!