Old toys, new toys, we all love ’em all, whatever their age, whatever their state. I have a Teddy Bear – they’re named after Theodore Roosevelt, you know – who was passed down to me by my brother. Actually, to be truthful, my brother didn’t so much pass Teddy down to me as throw him out of his cot in fright. He really didn’t like the ursine furball. But I did, and do, and we are often to be seen snuggling on a cold Martian night, searching for Earth in the evening sky. Even more often, though, we are searching for that wretch of a takeaway delivery hound with our Honeyed Tuna Melt Bites.
It is also suggested that Theodore ‘Teddy’ Roosevelt said this: Start where you are, use what you have, do what you can. It will be enough. Try it out next time you are suffering in extremis and see if it helps. I think it will, friends and grasshoppers. You can only do what you can do, Honeyed Tuna Melt Bites notwithstanding.
The wonderful people at the European Space Agency in Darmstadt, Germany are a bit sad, but hopeful, just as I am hopeful for my shiny (and rather glary) new friend, Schiaparelli lander’s recovery. It’s touch and go, and yes, the chocolate bars helped, but you can never be certain on the Red planet, especially with all these jostling space-o-nauts scurrying around and recklessly stealing tuna pies.
In the meantime, my dearest Earth peeps, keep dreaming of Martian playing fields just as I dream of my feline ancestors who lived a mere furball’s toss up the A5 from Darmstadt, in Frankfurt am Main. Many are the imaginary plates of tuna-wurst helpfully digested with a litre or three of catnip schnaps I’ve shared with my great-great grandparents, Charles Gustav and Margaret (or Meowgaret, as she was known in the family). Ah, those could have been the days but for pesky physics. Dream on.
Some say that sullying a delicious glass of Scotch with either water or ice is a sacrilege worthy of flogging. My opinion is that I much prefer Irish whiskey (or even whisky) with my tuna melt, but every cat is different, dear ones, and we really need to concentrate on the wonderful news that NASA confirmed the presence of water on Mars. I knew all along, of course, even though, as a proud feline (and potential future sufferer of renal failure if I’m not careful) H20 is not my favourite natural substance. On second thoughts, and considering that sidebar comment about renals, schmeenals failing, whatever, I think I’ll skate on over to the ice-capades and pick up a slab of the good stuff. See you there, Major Tom, Love, Dr On Mars xox