Daddy-Bear, have you contacted a pet sitter yet for the holiday?

The Good Lady called from another room. Her voice had a petulant edge which I suspected had more to do with the rising of the new Moon than her seeming inability to pick up a device and search for cat sitters.

As a matter of fact dearest, I am on a site just now looking at Pet Sitters!

I chortled merrily at my amazingness in doing something unprompted. If only the rest of the world could be as great as me.

It's quite funny actually!

I called out as I drifted through the profiles of the sitters before me.

What's funny about it?

The Good Lady shot back darkly as if I should dare find humour on the internet and not at home.

I laughed to myself at the prospect of the upcoming three days of moon madness that the Were-Lady was obviously working up to.

The last one had been rough with loud harrumphing and much angry stamping of feet and that had just been the male horses at a local stable we had visited when they had scented her black pudding.

Well, you know... I am browsing their photos and looking at their pics and in another window, I have a chat going on with one of them about the cats' dislikes and likes and what she should get up to once she arrives.

I laughed out loud.

It's like booking a hooker!

My smile faded away as the Good Lady marched into the room with a ferociously raised eyebrow and a face that was darker than the aforementioned black pudding.

It's like booking a what?

She said, in a deceptively soft voice, like a fox inviting a chicken who has seen the sky falling down for dinner.

A hooker, HA! This one is asking me if she should bring toys! Hahaha!

I stopped typing and looked up in the way of animals suddenly sensing a darkening of the sky and a quickening of the wind.

And have we booked many hookers online, Daddy-Bear?

The Good Lady purred in a sinister way as if she were a 12th-century torturer asking its victim just how red hot they wanted the red hot poker to be before ramming it up their chuff.

Of course not lass. I was just saying. You know, like, just saying?

I found myself blushing despite being entirely innocent of the crime I was now being accused of.

Then why, oh why, precious darling would you equate acquiring a cat sitter with purchasing the services of a lady of the night on the interwebs?

The Good Lady stood beside me and leaned in over my laptop scanning the screen for naughtiness.

Um, I was just being a dick. For fuck sake, obviously I have never purchased a ladybob's bits online for a bit of joobster-shoobster. That would be mental!?

I looked up, only half pleading for my life.

And why would you obviously have never purchased the services of a lady online...?

She placed a hand on my shoulder close to my carotid artery, clearly so that the wrong answer would lead to a swift, bulgy-eyed and gargling demise on my part as she delivered a moon-pig death dig.

Enough of this, I thought. The best form of defence has been and always will be a solid attack.

I flipped the laptop closed. The cries of Helen with 10 years + experience echoed faintly from within.

I stood and pulled her close to me.

Because, my sweet little pork pie. I already have a filthy hooker of the night right here of my very own!

I gave her a playful smack on the flank and sauntered off to the kitchen for a snack.

Cat sitter hunting always gives me an appetite.