Either way, my stomach is perplexed and utterly confused as its juices rage around in anguish at this additional hour. I lay passed out on the kitchen floor, holding my griping midline and hope it doesn't turn to dust. My head is spinning, I feel dizzy and sick. I need sustenance and it seems hours away. I ring CatLine, to add insult to injury, a recorded message tells me it doesn't open until nine. this is torture!
I was wondering how I would manage if I was to travel abroad like Jaz & Jamie? (Faith's kittens) How would the time zones work then? I would have foodlag! They are tougher than I and by all accounts they get bribed with a fish supper.... where is my bribe?
Nope, this won't do. I hear feet on the stairs, Momma is coming to serve petit dejeuner. I must make the effort to scrape my sorry self off the floor and act normal. If I am not wailing and yawping at full pelt I might end up with a trip to see Simon the Vet and that will never do!