Smudge, Michaela and Wesley Crusher

Sooo… where to begin?

Despite how brilliant my birthday was, November has not particularly been a very good month. I’ve had one or two depressive episodes, there are been major drama with the (now ex-) lodger, I haven’t been getting out as much, when I went to the nurse for my depo jab and got weighed I discovered that I’d actually put on weight since moving here. I’m not too fussed about that last bit, because I’m still fitter, and my ankle has improved immensely, but I honestly thought I’d lost weight so I was a little annoyed.

The two big issues have been one of my cats, and one of my sisters.

First.. the cat. Last Sunday, I think it would have been the 18th November, I get woken up by a phone call at half past seven in the morning. “Hello. I have your cat. I think she’s been in an accident.”

Wonderful way to wake up. NOT!!

I get outside and there’s a lady crouched down holding Smudge. Smudge takes off as soon as I get there and she’s not limping and all her bits seem attached, so I calm down a little bit. The lady had been driving by and had seen Smudge crouched in the road. She swerved to avoid her, but Smudge didn’t run off and the lady thought this a bit odd, so she pulled over to have a check. Apparently Smudge was bleeding from the mouth/nose area. There was a disturbing puddle of blood on the lady’s jacket. God bless her, though. Despite her fear of cats, she held Smudge (who doesn’t like being restrained at the best of time) until I got there. I thanked her profusely, called for Smudge a bit, then came indoors. I was relieved she didn’t seem to be injured, but knew I wouldn’t calm down until she’d come home and I’d had cuddles.

Later that day Mum comes into the lounge to tell me that Smudge is up in Michaela’s room, so I go up to have cuddles. I pick her up and get blood on my arm. I look at her jaw. Her entire lower jaw looked… the best word to use is mangled. Swollen, bloody, sore and just generally icky. It looked like she’d lost her bottom fangs and several other teeth, and she had a mouthful of blood. So I called the vet. We took her up the surgery (incurring a £107 out-of-hours consultation fee) and he had a look. Apparently she degloved her chin. This means that she managed to pull the skin and fur away from the bone. She hadn’t lost her fangs, she just had her skin all up over her teeth.

The vet kept her in, cleaned her up and gave her some painkillers and antibiotics. On the Monday morning they knocked her out, sutured her skin back into place and she was home by Monday evening. We’ve been giving her antibiotics and painkillers. On Thursday she had a check up at the vet. He’s not too happy with the way her lip is healing… it’s a little wonky. We have another check up this Friday and he may decide to knock her out again and redo those ones.

So far the bill is £380 odd. Because I’m on benefits I’ve applied to the RSPCA for help, but they could help with anything from 20 to 200, or nothing. I just have to wait and see. Don’t tell anyone, but I’d pay three times that. My cats are my babies. So I’ve been a little bit stressed over that this week.

And then there’s Michaela.

Michaela, for those of you who don’t know, is my youngest sister. She’s fifteen, and a bit of troubled case at the moment. She hasn’t been going to school. Just refuses to get up in the morning. That doesn’t sound too bad, but you really have to be here to understand. She’s driving us all crazy, especially my mum, who has multiple health issues that are just getting worse and worse with all this stress with Michaela.

Friday evening I decided to accompany my mum to bingo, since I hadn’t been out of the house all week apart from with Smudge. We had a pleasant evening. Mum was staying at a friend’s for the night because she couldn’t face Michaela, so she dropped me off afterwards. The back door was wide open, all the lights were on, the heating was on, the kitchen was a mess, and Michaela had left a note saying that she was spending the night at a friend’s house. Whatever. I texted mum to let her know that she could come home because Michaela wasn’t here. Mum then gets a text from Michaela from a number that we suspected belonged to her 39 year old, married, Filipino, drug dealer boyfriend. So mum called the police.

A few hours later… the police have been round to the friend’s house and woken everyone up. Her parents thought their daughter was here at our house. So two girls were off missing. The police tried calling Michaela’s phone – and she let off a stream of abuse at them. We suspect at this point that she’s been taking some kind of drug because she’s normally quite respectful to authority figures. And she has several drug habits. Weed, aerosols, a suspected history with meth.

Normally when Michaela runs off – yes, she’s done this before – she’s back by morning, so by lunchtime Saturday we were starting to be a little less angry and a little more worried. I’m watching mum age before my eyes. She’s chain smoking, and I’m chain eating. It’s a stressful house.

We managed to find some more information about this drug dealer boyfriend, which we give the police, but it doesn’t help much.

The other girl’s parents came over about 11ish last night (the Saturday) to see if we knew anything. Now, this girl is the sort that will go to school fine and be home for curfew, so her parents think she’s a little angel and have no idea what she gets up to. As far as we’re aware, she hasn’t run off before. So the parents are freaked. And the mother is also drunk. She keeps screaming at me and mum because we don’t seem to be concerned about the girls. Mum yelled back at one point, and I had to go into a different room before I started to cry.

I’d been angry and worried and stressed, but I’d been holding it together. Mum needed me. I knew that if I started to cry I’d lose all control and be completely useless. I couldn’t do that until Mum was coping.

We’d just managed to get the other parents to leave, and mum had just gone to bed when we get another phone call from the police. They’ve found the girls. In a hotel room, in a service station, with a bloke. Mum had to go and meet Michaela at the police station.

She was processed and interviewed. They seized her clothes. Mum and Michaela got home about half one in the morning. Michaela got sent straight up to her room. She wasn’t the slightest bit contrite. She was full of herself and all nonchalant and excited about the big adventure she’d been having. It was, quite frankly, frustrating. If she hadn’t gone upstairs, I’m not sure who’d have hit her first. Me or mum.

When I woke up today to a knock on the door, mum had gone out to hide at a friend’s and Michaela was just coming downstairs. More police. They wanted to take us to a safehouse so Michaela could give a video interview. I had to give my statement too. When they dropped us off at home, Michaela went back upstairs and Mum gave her statement.

Mum went out less than a minute after the police left. She’s staying at friend’s again this evening. I have a show to go to, but I really don’t know if I can be bothered. I’m so stressed, and so tired. I’m angry and worried and frustrated and wound up and just generally pissed off. It doesn’t help that I came home this evening and discovered that my little shit of a sister has been stealing my antidepressants. Nice of her, right?

It isn’t all bad news though. Last night, after mum and Michaela had gone to bed, my friend Cayden and I were sat talking on an instant messaging app, planning out our dream homes. Yarn rooms, stained glass windows, live in staff, swimming pools, moats with piranhas etc etc.

I think the last thing I decided I wanted was a holodeck, at which point I realised I didn’t really need everything else. So new plan: holodeck.

It was a silly conversation, but it cheered me up immensely and made me feel vaguely normal again. And speaking of holodecks, how many of you are Star Trek fans? Ever watch The Next Generation? Do you know who this is?


That is Wesley Crusher, played by a young Wil Wheaton, who was also in the spectacular Stand by Me, amongst many greats. I follow him – Wil Wheaton, not Wesley Crusher – on Twitter (@wilw). Yesterday he was cleaning out his garage over in California and kept posting pictures of old stuff he found. A friend I have on Twitter messaged him about it, and he replied. So I told her how jealous I was…


And guess what?!
Wil Wheaton tweeted at me!!! I spent the next half hour giggling like a school girl and squealing and blushing. I still do whenever I think about it. It was amazing. You gotta love the internet. A small, tiny little thing, but because of the internet my childhood hero crush messaged me! It. Was. So. Freaking. Cool!!

It probably meant nothing to him, just a quick little message. But that wonderful wonderful man wiped out the stress and frustration from the insanely crappy day I’d had and let me fall asleep with a smile on my face and have a good night’s sleep. Wonderful wonderful man.



About Colette Horsburgh

A 30-something creator/baker/writer/doodler/crafter living with several (but not enough) scatty animals.
This entry was posted in Friends & Family, Random Ramblings. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s