A Feline Cliffhanger.

Time was me and Mothermouse as the dominant species fed the cats, plus the crows, pigeons, squirrels, hedgehogs and other small birds visiting our back garden. That was how it should be. Lately though by the looks of things the cats or rather one of them has taken on the role of sub feeder. It’s difficult to know which one exactly. Britney has the intelligence but not a maternal bone where Betty has the neurosis and a vestigial motivation to snuggle up with Dave and smell his bottom. Anyway one of them has taken to placing a small woollen toy with ears and eyes in a feeding bowl presumably in the hope of rearing it. Granted the bowl was always empty but then as a responsible parent one must always feed first in order to continue one’s caring responsibilities. Nevertheless there it was three or four times carefully placed in a bowl. Until, as is often the case, the maternal instinct failed in the face of a night time feed not going to plan. In the morning the said woollen toy was de-stranded on the dining room carpet like the remains of a jet plane hitting a hillside. Strands of orange wool all over the place in no particular order. End of cat toy number 1. A week went by. A grey material blob of a toy with arms and legs, god knows what it’s supposed to be, appeared in a bowl last Sunday. But this is made of sterner stuff, fabric sewn together in an unknown Indonesian factory by an unknown Indonesian factory worker brought into this world to make indefinable cat toys. What will be its fate? Will the maternal instinct win out? Or will the teeth and claws of Betty, we think it’s Betty, cause another infanticide? It’s a right cliff-hanger. 

Get Your Finger Out.

At the risk of repeating myself Therapy Today is the BACP monthly journal for therapists. BACP stands for British Acronym Creation Program. If you’re no good at redacting words to letters or reversing the process it’s a difficult read. It always reminds me of the gold rush where hard working diggers and sifters are fleeced of any profits by ancillary providers. In this case room renters, insurance brokers and course providers. With twenty pages of these to two of jobs it’s clear where the opportunities lie. Simply think up a new acronym and create a training course for it. As an off the cuff example; Integrative Trans-anything Co-anything Counselling. Maybe the difference is an ITCC course to twenty people can earn considerably more than providing counselling to one. And as the general public would far rather shell out for the latest Sky package as a route to happiness than contemplate self examination with a stranger a counsellor’s incomings are unlikely to cover their outgoings. But there’s a new hopeful helper born every minute, and there’s a mysterious kudos to counselling. According to some eminent therapist, Fritz Pearls or Rogers or someone, we aren’t very good at it, our understated British reserve not having the necessary cutting edge. A friend was accompanied by a Slovakian colleague on a visit to a depressed guy. Where Suzymouse went the positive encouragement route the Slovakian gently explained he had no friends, was lazy, didn’t go out and smelt, and was making no effort to change things. Though lacking in positivity at least it gave him something to think about. GYFFO counselling. I have just the course.