Cat hunt took my mind off my wrinkles and yellow fingers

My list of things to do is getting longer and the hours are getting shorter, yet I am wandering around the house in a daze of denial.

Tomorrow I am meant to be looking my most beautiful, but I have dark rings under my eyes thanks to waking up in a cold, hard panic each morning.

And, of course, I haven’t quit smoking so I have yellow fingers to contend with too.

I nearly bludgeoned LOML to death following a big row a few days ago, so the fresh frown lines will add to my overall look of “old hag in pretty dress”.

But is the cause of all this the worry about my forthcoming nuptials?

No, surprisingly not. I’ve been worrying about a dopey ginger cat instead.

Last week Milton disappeared without a trace.

His brother Bernard has been beside himself, mewling non-stop in a way guaranteed to not just tug on the heartstrings but to drive you slowly insane.

LOML launched a massive cat hunt, hand-delivering flyers, tying posters on trees and knocking on doors.

In true 21st century style, our plight was posted on facebook for all to see - and comment on.

We had eight days of stress and worry before our neighbour knocked on the door.

A shadowy, cat-shaped figure had been spotted inside a nearby empty house.

We ran off to check it out, and there he was.

He was a little thinner, but as he could have done with losing a bit of podge, not greatly the worse for wear.

He’d obviously managed to snaffle the odd rodent here and there.

Bernard was delighted and finally gave up making that awful noise.

I was left gazing into the mirror wondering at the extra lines.

Ah well, too late to do anything about it now.

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