Cat Sitter Sitter

My mum is coming to house sit for the week we’re up in Edinburgh enjoying the sights, sounds and sniggers of the Fringe.

She was always meant to be coming over – it was an idea that we floated before anything stroke related took place. But we’d kind of thought that it wasn’t going to happen and were looking for the best alternative for looking after Peppa that didn’t involve the crushing heartbreak of putting her in a cattery – we did it once and it was traumatic for everyone concerned (and the lady in charge was NOT amused when I told her, quite accurately, that Peppa was very fond of lemon meringue pie).

At one point we were considering asking the OCD neighbour to do it, which would have been fine to a point. That point being that our house is not an OCD sufferer’s best friend. It’s eclectic, which is not just a posh way of saying untidy. It has things everywhere – again, not untidy – which represent our passions. And it’s fine to us – but for an outsider, especially one who cuts the edges of her lawn with scissors because she used a strimmer once and it nearly blinded her (how’s that for a superhero origin story) it would be a nightmare. Why, for example, are there a collection of Batman lego figures on one side of the room and some more on the other side? Shouldn’t they all be together? Why aren’t they together. Oh god, please put them together.

What I’m saying, is that my fear for an OCD cat-sitter is that we’d come back to find the house rearranged, probably alphabetically. Post would be stacked up in size order, books arranged by height and colour. Or, worse, the Dewey Decimal system.

So, instead, mum’s doing it.

She’s insisted on it, because it’s part of her gaining independence, so it makes sense in a way. It is, of course, laced with danger – we have stairs, mother does not. We have a gas cooker, mother does not. We have a cat which is basically a mobile trip hazard, mother does not. All of these things will be keeping Carole awake at night. Especially the gas cooker, which she has already banned my mum from using.

So instead of getting next door to keep an eye on Peppa, we’ve got next door to keep an eye on my mum keeping an eye on Peppa.

I not sure that’s the most efficient way of doing things and, as I say, I’m not sure that anyone with OCD should be allowing into our house but at least we can blame my mother for anything that she encounters…