Heavenly Beverley : Meteors, Meerkats and Misadventures

We've had a pretty lively week here preparing for yet another magnificent Sundowner. A trip to Perth for our twice-yearly skin checks with the divine Doctor Daram. Standing in front of one of the most handsome men I have ever seen (who is also a thoroughly friendly bloke), my dreams were shattered once more with those softly spoken words - "Down to your bra and knickers, Kate". Sigh.

And so we both did. I had a few bits frozen off, adding to the patchwork caused by sun damage over the last fifty years. Michael had a suspicious looking patch shaved off his upper arm. He was suitably brave and did not utter a single expletive. Hence, Daram's receptionists were saved from the deluge of very loud profanity that usually accompanies any local anaesthetic applied to me.

Other highlights included a spot of drug collecting from two pharmacies; tiresome but necessary. Getting older is definitely not for the faint-hearted. Plus, I picked up drugs for Pip's troublesome ACL from Graeme, our long-suffering vet and organised his investigations for Wednesday (Pip, not Graeme). Northam Retra-Vision provided a badly-needed urn for the Gallery and Vanessa arrived on the train to spend the long weekend here.

Any illusions that the Wheatbelt is an area where nothing ever happens has been dispelled once and for all. First of all, a bloody great light hurtled across the sky at the end of August. Crashlanding Martians perhaps? Apparently not. The boffins believe it was a meteorite that ploughed into a paddock somewhere near York. As far as I know, no trace of the mystery object has been found as yet. Give us a few months. Come harvest, a farmer's prize piece of machinery will make contact with this extraterrestrial lump with a resounding crunch. And all will be revealed.

Then, we are alerted to the disappearance of a meerkat/kitten from Perth Zoo. We were all convinced that a wandering bird of prey had done what wandering birds of prey do and snaffled the baby when nobody was looking. However, we did our feathered flying friends a disservice to suspect them. We have since learnt that a Wheatbelt couple were "helping police with their enquiries" after the missing meerkitten was uncovered and rescued from a country property. In Beverley, actually.

Apparently, the infant was tired, stressed and hungry. I am not surprised. The drongos who nicked the animal surely had no idea what they were doing. Pinching a meerkitten...Why would a pair of village idiots believe that they could care for a burrowing mongoose-like animal from southern Africa?

Needless to say, this exquisitely strange but true story has caused much hilarity online. Michael and I have been quizzed by several so-called friends if we were the couple in question...Some bright spark even altered our brand of "Be Very Beverley" to "Be Very Meerkat". Oh, hardee haa...

The last time Beverley was really in the news was the report of a mummified big toe found lurking outside the post office. This resulted in awkward questions from our friends, concerned about the whereabouts of the rest of the body. So far, we are unaware of any residents who appear to be missing an appendage from one foot. The mystery rolls on...

Pip, our Ultra-Alert Jack Russell, is being examined for the affliction of reverse sneezing next week. Pardon? For some time, his sucking and hacking and coughing has been intensifying. He would sound like he was dying. We've had him checked for Kennel Cough and vague respiratory infections. We've discussed possibilities of an obstruction. We've tried antibiotics and oral steroids. All to no avail. Our latest information is that reverse sneezing is not fatal (!), but we can investigate possible causes. On Wednesday, Pip is undergoing an anaesthetic to take a squizz up his hooter and down his throat. That should slow down his utilisation of spraying diarrhoea all over Graeme and Ingrid. We may or may not discover a reason.

We were also instructed to get a wee sample from Pip, first thing in the morning. This was easier said than done. Being a somewhat nervous type, Pip was understandably disturbed at being followed by an ice cream container. Needless to say, my quest to catch a widdle ended in abject failure. When the junior vet Melody suggested stalking him with a soup ladle, I nearly choked with hysterical laughter. They can extract the wee from him whilst he is unconscious...

We will barely have time to draw breath over the coming days. Tuesday is our only day off. My darling friend, Stacey Dowding, is bringing her merry bunch of senior citizens for an outing on Wednesday. Her own Dad died very recently but Stacey would never let her band of fun-loving elders down.

Beverley may well be in the news again after their visit.