Rented

Meet Trixie :)

Hoowee, what a day. Eldest son moved to his first home. Well, correction, he's at work, so his mum, gran and granddad moved as much as they could fit into a rather large transit. I never knew a chap in his early twenties could accumulate so much stuff in one tiny bedroom.

I was relegated to untangling miles and miles of wire he's accumulated. Now I remember why I get a nervous twitch at the sight of knitting......

Thinking of modern technology, his mum advertised for a rented place for him on a local forum, and received a very reasonable offer for a partly furnished two bedroomed home a mile away owned by a Mr. Khan, the son of a city furniture dealer, who, the same age as my lad, owns a number of properties. All sorted out via the 'tinternet with a couple of visits.

Mr Khan was gobstruck when my lad said he wanted to pay his rent by standing order (my lad works for a bank). He's never had that before. His last tenant for that property skipped after the tenant was caught in a housing benefit scam....... Oddly enough, he left a large wardrobe full of rather skimpy ladies undies. Tho' he lived alone. That gave the Bear a chuckle :) But nicked half the furniture. Nowt as queer as folk...

But the lack of furniture hasn't been a problem. My Bear had a quick chat or three with various mates on the same local forum, and lots of the ladies (and a fella) were chucking stuff like drawers, and the landlord unexpectedly delivered a new three piece suit. Sorted.

Not bad for £400 a month. Not counting he's had an unexpected loan from the wife of a leader of a Christian Church to 'ease the burden on us' to bring his American wife across to the uk. Don't get me started on that one....Nightmare.

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Ah, Trixie Pup. Trix is 5 months from the same litter as our Sigma, but has been passed from pillar to post. Four owners as far as I know. She's a 'chewer'. She's untrained, undisciplined, and is accused of chewing everything from furniture to walls.

Not here - well, the odd soft toy. And jumping up and down on me at 5 am. Urk!

She's a pup. That's what pups do. So, apparently, I'm her owner, until I can rehome her.

Strangest thing, I was singing to myself - we do that, very singy family. The poor thing sat fascinated but frightened in front of me, shivering. Maybe it was my voice?

But do you know what? I don't thing she's seen a human sing before. How sad it that?