It seemed like a good idea at the time

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

We needed a kitten and could provide a loving home for its mother at the same time.

It has not quite worked out as we had anticipated – mainly because Muffin – not being aware of the plan in detail – has not endorsed it with any degree of enthusiasm at all.

She hates Moni and Sissi – seemingly in equal measure – and now stays in our bedroom most of the day.

Moni and Sissi are oblivious to this animosity and Moni – who was a complete wreck when she arrived is now completely relaxed and has not a care in the world.

Sissi – being a kitten – attempted to play with Muffin – who chased her away. Moni then leapt on Muffin and there was quite a kafuffle. This is likely to happen again as Sissi is a bit to small to understand old grouchy cats.

We have had to feed Muffin in our room and – to Cate’s great horror – she now has kitty litter in her bathroom as Muffin does not want to run the gauntlet past Moni to the litter in my bathroom.

Moni unfortunately eschews the use of kitty litter and prefers more natural surroundings. Unfortunately there are no grassy woodlands in our lounge room – and even worse – Moni has significant stomach problems.

Moni ate non stop for two days but has slowed down and now only eats as much as a team of Huskies after the Iditarod race.

As this is a family Blog I will refrain from providing more details except to say that I have brought my 5 ml wetsuit and diving boots up from the storeroom and have bought a WetVac.

I am also violently allergic to Moni or to Sissi or to both so spend a great deal of time sneezing and coughing and spluttering and wishing for a quick and painless death – and hoping this will occur before Moni’s next colossal evacuation.

The whole thing so far has been a complete catastrophe and we really wish at this stage we had had more sense than to try to introduce a mother and baby into a house where there is already an older (and much grouchier) cat in residence.

We have heard reports that Mogli and Balu have not hit it off but are awaiting details.

Rebecca, a friend from London, chose this weekend to visit us.

I think I can say with a high degree of certainty that Rebecca will never now own a cat. In fact she may never leave therapy as – apart from the visual and sensual pleasures that awaited her – she is also allergic to furry animals.

However, Rebecca’s visit was useful as we did something new.

Since we have been in Wien many people have urged us to visit a Heurigen. This is a place where you drink the vintage of the establishment and sample the fine foods as you have a jolly time in a rustic setting.

I quote from one of the Wien sites online about this delectable pursuit:

“Heuriger ['hoy-ri-ger]:

wine from this year

also "Buschenschank", a restaurant in Austria, in which this wine is poured out

The " The Heuriger or Buschenschank can be seen as typical Viennese - to be recommended to Vienna-tourists. At the Heuriger You usually drink wine from own tillage and eat a trifle. The interior is usually wooden seats and wooden tables. In many restaurants is self-service at the foods. You go to the bufet and select. Often there is music and it is not unusual singing along vociferously.
The green bush of a pinetree at a restaurant is a sign, that there You can drink wine from their own tillage. If the taking of own foods was allowed formerly, so this is not allowed today. The Heurigen offers an abundant bufett. Recommendable are roast chicken, barbecue-chicken, Schnitzel, Schweinsbraten (pork), diverse salads and bread with layer. Also sweetness for dessert is offered”

This never did sound like us so we have not pursued it. But Rebecca said we should do it and chose a suitable location in Grinzing.

We couldn’t find the first location – after driving for some time through laneways so narrow that the foliage brushed the car on both sides – so settled for a Heurigen in the main street. Lonely planet says this was the best.

It was awful.

It’s awfulness was exceeded only by the surliness of the waiter who actually shouted and waved his arms at people who tried to order from him.

Imagine a very, very ordinary beer garden with no service where everyone smokes. Garnish this with precooked food that is heated in a microwave before being tossed onto a plate. The side dish is the hot, sweaty, fat, angry, shouting waiter.

Perhaps he just bought a new cat and knew what was waiting for him when he got home.

There must be better Heurigens. I will wait suggestions from locals so that we can give it another try.

Before we left Australia I tried really hard to get someone to chop down the tree in the front garden.

It had been ‘trimmed’ by Energy Australia (apparently with Rocket Propelled Grenades) and was beyond redemption.

I am please to report that after many months and many attempts by me and by the tenant in our house we have been able to get a tree lopper not only to consider lopping the tree but to actually submit a request to council.

I have received today a letter from Leichhardt Municipal Council. For your edification I shall quote a small part of it:

“Dear Sir/Madam

I am pleased to advise you that this application has been allocated to Walter Mudge in Council’s Assessments section, who will coordinate its processing.

If you wish to check the application’s progress or if you wish to view documents relating to the application, please refer to the Council’s online tracking system at http://www.leichhardt.nsw.gov.au/.”

Leichhardt Council is one of the slowest councils in NSW in terms of processing development applications.

This tells you why. We are talking about removing a dead tree.

Steady Muffin - It's not Dick and Donald

Moni and Sissi arrived at about 10:30 and this signalled the start of a gold plated hissy fit by Muffin.

She has been howling, hissing and snarling all day and has spent a lot of time under the bed in the guest room.

You’d think I’d brought Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld home for lunch.

Moni wants to be friends but Muffin is just not interested.

Moni is the hungriest cat I have ever seen and has so far eaten four packets of cat food, five cat sticks and some crunchies. Biggi says she was very stressed with 5 kittens and was not eating (and she is also very thin).

I think the eating is a sign that she is becoming unstressed and she certainly doesn’t seem to be worried by too much – not even Muffin’s tantrums.

I guess if you go from five kittens to one then life looks pretty good.

Sissi is not bothered by too much and spends a lot of time climbing over everything. She really likes the kitty litter and is scattering it all over the apartment.

Of course neither of them is interested in the Cat Charm.

I can’t say too much today because I need to concentrate on cat minding.

It is also another public holiday here and the union doesn’t like me to Blog on public holidays.

I have a wonky right ear that occasionally needs attention

Kitten day tomorrow and I am just about ready.

I just have to clean out the fridge and make some Peach jam and I am done. Muffin loves Peach jam so I hope the new cats do as well – as I am not sure I will ever get them to eat Vegemite.

I hope the new cats also like Scrambled Eggs, Spaghetti Bolognaise and Parmigiano-Reggiano because these are some of Muffin’s favourites.

Merlin likes Roquefort but I can’t get Muffin interested in this – although she likes some of the milder blue cheeses. I think she is a bit concerned about Cheese Spiders (as I have been since Melissa told me about them).

Rozalin suggested that the cats may be a bit edgy when they get here and that I should get some Bach Remedy. I thought I had some but Cate must have used it all in her Gruner Veltliner while watching Desperate Housewives.

In Australia you would pop into a health food store for this but here I had to go to the Apotheke and order it. It cost a staggering €13 for 20 ml which makes it as about as expensive as OPIUM by YSL – but if it stops the little blighters from fretting it will be worth it.

Muffin certainly needs something as she has been doing her Vasco da Gama act and circumnavigating the bed and house for hours every night.

Speaking of weird looking people and clothes. I happened by Karl Lagerfeld last night on German TV and that man must dress in the dark – WITH his sunglasses on. He never has his tie done up and his hair is a fright. All that leather gives me the creeps too. He looks like an ageing Bikie - but in keeping with my policy of never ever slanging off at people no matter how weirdly they look or dress - I will say nothing.

By the way – I notice that for some time of have been starting some nouns with a Capital letter. Has anyone noticed this? Perhaps I am inadvertently absorbing some German grammar.

I went to see a Dermatologist yesterday for a check up. As a person who spent his youth in the sun – not understanding the dangers – I am now well aware of ghastly things that can happen so have regular checks. I have a wonky right ear that occasionally needs attention so always get this looked at.

I used to go to see Dr Ming in Sydney. He was wonderful and I had great confidence in him. He is a teaching Professor at Sydney University which helps you understand just how much he knows about skin.

He was going to come to Wien this year for a conference so I was going to invite him to dinner at Ein Weiner Salon during which I could strip to my underwear and he could examine me. I would of course pay for dinner and explain to the police what had happened.

But he had to postpone this trip (and no I had not told him what I had planned) so I needed to look locally.

In Sydney Dr Ming would not wear pink shirts because he thought that people would look at him. I told him he would look sensational – if only because he would certainly be the only four foot six inches tall Professor of Chinese extraction at Sydney Uni wearing a Pink shirt – but he would not be persuaded.

Last time I saw Dr Ming I met his wife – who is a real Hottie and at least 18 inches taller than the good Dr. I told her about the Pink shirts and she sighed and said yes she had actually bought him Pink shirts but he would not wear them.

Naturally the dermatologist here doesn’t make appointments so you get there and sit in a vast waiting room and every now and then a door open and someone shouts something and the next person gets up and goes in. They don’t shout your name – you have to remember what order you are in the queue – this is to keep you on your toes.

I was a bit tense because the receptionist gave me some last minute instructions before I went into the waiting room and I couldn’t understand her. She repeated it a few times but I couldn’t get hold of it so did what I always do and said Ich verstehe before going and sitting down.

Then I worried for ages about whether there was something essential I did not know which meant that I would not be allowed entry.

Anyway I did get in eventually and the Dermatologist greeted me warmly in French and we had a bit of a conversation in French until I explained that I was Australian.

It turns out that she has oodles of relatives in Sydney (some of who are staying with her now) so we had a long conversation about things before we turned to matters of skin. She of course knows Dr Ming and we discussed him at length (but I did not mention the Pink shirts).

She appears to be very competent and she examined me closely from head to toe. My ear is under control and will hang on until my next visit.