Comfortably seated I read the saga of Rory, he must be English as that is not the Gaelic!
Looking at his pic he just looks like a footwarmer, or tummy warmer, and has obviously given so much pleasure in the house, maybe some of the menfolk here should get themselves done, and save all the angst on some threads.
Its a pity that this site is so ill designed that a post like yours cant be left, say on your profile, for all to see and read.
Maybe it can.
Also you have had a long saga regarding the tick bite, if that is what it caused the problem, its not an easy drive up to Oban, at least you dont have to cross Rest and be Thankful, as that seem to have annual slips,
God bless General Wade, but he was English, and did so much for Highland communication. Before that there was the drovers roads from the Highlands to the Lowlands.
Do you often get snow in Kintyre, forecast seems to be pointing in that direction, but often they are wrong.
I have given up baking and making cake, as it does havoc with my waist, but well can remember the Lemon Drizzle cake my Ma took into hospital after my son was born, and I enjoyed 5 days rest in good company of the other mums, we all laughed so much the stitches hurt!
Our g'kids were in and out in a day.
Take care
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Slainte to all my Granspals. Settle down and relax. The bubbly is nicely chilled. 
Or more likely droop at my age!
onmyown glad you have joined us. As you like flowers, here are some from me as a welcome
Soop in view of recent posts, instead of Slainte, perhaps you and Agus should say bottoms up! 
Slainte is pronounced slarnge...or something like, depending on how many drinks one has enjoyed. Agus will say it as it is. 
Galen Of course you are batty...and ever so nice with it. My bum has adorable dimples in each cheek. I've a photo of me in the buff as a babe. The dimples were cute at that time...and, I'm told, remain so.
POGS your mum sounds like a very nice lady. Just like you.
So...it's time for the Sunday evening G&T. I shall bid you all a very good evening and say, Slainte, as you do when in Scotland.
onmyown Rory's story is a long on. I shall try to give you a brief-ish summary. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin.
About two years ago, a big black feral cat walked into our snowy garden. He was accompanied by a pretty female cat and two young kittens. We started to put food out for the little family. We often saw the male cat walking between our home and the village 3 miles away. We were told that he was "unapproachable and vicious". We contacted the feral cat protection guy. He said that there was a colony of cats living rough high up in the forest. He said that we should try to "capture" them and take them to the vet to be sterilised. He brought some traps to our home. In the meantime, my husband - MacSporran, built a wee chalet under which the food was placed to protect it from the rain. The male cat took a liking to it. He sort of moved in on the odd occasion. We then scrubbed out a wheelie bin, lay it on it's side, and put in a few blankets. Black cat took up residence, toddling off to be with his family on occasions. We put the cat traps out on an evening when we assumed that the family would arrive together. It was a very traumatic episode for us and the female cats. One by one they entered the traps and fought to get themselves free. We had to then take them to the vet. The girls were spayed and returned to the garden after a few days with the man from the cats' protection league. The black cat REFUSED to enter the trap. We purchased a very nice kennel, inside which we put an igloo type cat basket and fleeces. Also a door mat! Black cat loved it. I gingerly put his bowl down outside the kennel. He would come out of his upmarket home to eat...not to be sociable. Mother cat and kits returned almost daily for a feed...staying well away until we were back inside the house. One day, the black cat walked into the utility room. He hissed and spat as I tried to get past him. When I foolishly startled him, he flew at me and ripped through my jeans with teeth and claws. I had to have a tetanus injection for my injuries. Much later on, having got to be not so afraid of us [though we were very nervous of him] he came back into the house and walked around beside me. 
He then went through the kitchen door and back into the kennel. We arranged for a vet to come to the house, and when he next entered, he was captured and taken away to be castrated/de-flowered. When he returned, he stayed in our home overnight. Within a very short time he moved in for real. He is now the light of my husband's life [together with me, naturally.] He is almost like MacS's shadow. They do everything together. He is, dare I say, adorable and most affectionate. If you look through my Gransnet photos you'll see some pics of Rory Mactavish...the cat who came in from the cold. We still feed his wifelet, although she doesn't call as often as one of her kittens...known as Tortoiseshell. She has just had her third feed of the day. She waits until her presence is noted, hides under the hydrangea bush, and comes out to feed as I close the door. The other kitten, known as Tabby, hasn't appeared for some weeks now. Phew! You did ask. I hope that I haven't bored you into a stupor. Rory's story has many chapters to it. Far too many to tell in one session.
He is not a wild cat. Wild cats cannot be domesticated. Rory was wild in the sense that he lived in a commune and fended for himself. He is now far from being the bolshy cat of yesteryear.
Soops, thanks for your posting, your comments are so welcome.
But I am confused - is Rory, the "exceedingly fierce wild cat-that-was" a real cat, or an exceedingly fierce wild Highland Scot?
(I lived in Scotland for a while, loved it, you are a strong lot, I didn't want to leave, I always cry from the bottom of my heart, tears streaming down my face, when singing Auld Lang Syne)
So is Rory real? a cat in the kitchen - a wild cat (never seen one, would love to see one), or a wild Scot (seen a few, but never got close - maybe next year? 
)
Galen - you say "where in this vast island of ours are you" - I say:
West of the sun and North of the Moon
or is it:
North of the sun and West of the Moon.
Not sure.
Staying private at the moment. Time for a 
Soop - Yes
Paul Anka and "Diana" -
"I'm so young and you're so old,
This my darling we've been told - - - -
Oh, please, stay with me, Diana - "
(I had a brief but glorious fling like this as my marriage ended - I've not always been lonely! love giving flowers.
more responses to messages to follow. Thank you.
Oh it was definitely after the clothes, oops, I mean watershed
Not that I want to see such a disturbing sight. Galen on the other hand...
Agus Deep sigh. Which screen would that be? Was after the 9 o'clock wotsit?
soop. I have to add, neither DH nor I have actually seen moonies in the flesh, so to speak, only on screen
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