A Slow Pace of Life

I've now been in the cat house for six days, so I'm really getting to know the cats. I spend most time with the 'teenagers' that reside in the main kitchen/dining/living room of the house. These eleven cats are a fun bunch who alternate between charging around with manic energy and drifting off into peaceful naps. The other day the entire crew became fascinated by the mysterious appearance of a small golden chocolate egg (its appearance was also a mystery to me - where did it come from?), closely examining it and one would occasionally tap it with a degree of caution, like a human working out whether something is too hot or spiky to hold. Later, a cartoon featuring a fly and a spider came on the television, causing several of the young whippersnappers to stand right up to the TV and amusingly make swats at the 2D creatures. Of the teenagers a few stand out in my eyes - Spiderpig, who climbs up you when you're standing and perches on your shoulder like a parrot, Pastel, who enjoys early nights snuggled up in someone's arms, and Knuckleduster, a scrawny, furless, bundle of energy named after a pattern on his side who is so lovable and always entertaining to watch prance about. Then there are the 'Little Rascals' as I've dubbed them, a roomful of rebellious kittens who seem to prefer going for both number ones and number twos in their bed rather than in the litter tray. Last but most definitely not least, there is my pal Zachary, an adult I hang out with daily who purrs like a generator.

The great company of the cats, my host, and another helper from The Netherlands hasn't been the only nice aspect of this week. I've also been enjoying a slow pace of life,  as I have so often in Australia. Every morning here I go through the routine of cleaning the cat rooms inside the house, replacing litter trays and so forth. I start at 7am and such is the size of the job and the thoroughness required that it's around 11am by the time I've finished. It is one of those jobs that just takes a long time. This may sound tedious, but besides a few other odd jobs there is nothing else I have to do here, so there is no need to worry about the time taken. The morning routine partly takes so long because I'm going at a somewhat leisurely pace. Sure, I could powerwalk around and try to get it all out the way as quick as possible, but why rush? I'm in no  hurry, I would rather do the job well than quickly, and its not like I'm operating that slowly, I'm just not moving at breakneck speed. Also, the time mentioned above includes a break for morning tea. And it can be a lengthy break. While not pushing the hour mark like some morning teas in Kojonup, we enjoy a sit down outside, a cup of tea, some toast, we listen to the birds and have a natter, only returning to work when we feel like it.

Once I'm done with my chores for the day there isn't really anywhere to go as I don't have a car, but that's quite alright with me. In the afternoon I'll climb into the hammock with a book and inevitably fall asleep for undetermined periods of time, it of course not mattering how long I snooze for. In the evening, after the cats have been fed again, dinner is another drawn out affair with nothing to do afterwards except flick on the television. Then I'll get an early night and a long sleep, because why stay up late?

I'm enjoying this slow pace of life, as I should be, because it certainly won't be this way when I'm living and working in London.

The youngest kittens with their mother