This page was entered manually from memory, indicated by the brown text, thirty years later, on 2 May 2017. Much detail has been
taken from Yvonne's paper diary of the time.
Cat show in Kempten tomorrow.
Mrs. Friedrich had promised to look after Rostoff and Greggie,
our Borzois. But when we called her on
the phone, there was no answer. Tried lots of people, but they all had some issue, and
finally we left them with Ralf Lichtenstein and Uschi Mack out in the back of beyond. We
had just got back home when Mrs. Friedrich rang up and asked when we were going to bring the
dogs...
Off round 15;30 in unseasonal heat (why don't German cars have air conditioning?). The
first 1½ hours were terrible, and the cats were suffering, but then the traffic eased, and
we arrived in Waltenhofen round 19:0.
The Schmidts from Mörsfeld were there
with their cats. The place where we were staying had just changed owners, and the new ones
had difficulty finding our room. Had dinner in the “Adler” in
the next village. The staff there had
difficulty with the combined influx of Mayday visitors and the cat show people, and the food
was pretty mediocre.
The room wasn't up to much, nor was the bathroom. But to make up for that, the cats woke us
at 5:30. Breakfast was good and plentiful.
At the cat show, I had a run-in with Mrs. Hombach about the cages, and nearly left before we
had started. Yvonne calmed me down, and Mrs. Hombach also
returned to her “Rhenish happy nature”, to quote Yvonne. I put on a white coat and
registered as a steward. For some reason this time the cats were particularly uneasy, and I
got a few scratches and bites.
In German cat shows, the cats are brought to the judges, not always an easy thing. The
brave souls who do it are called Stewards (in German as well).
In the evening to a hunting lodge, where the food was good, but the air less so: a cigar
smoker at the next table spoilt it for Yvonne. But we had something to celebrate: two of
the Schmidts' cats have become champions, our Clove [chocolate Burmese] got
a CACIB, and our Polyxenia [brown
Burmese, I think] was Best in Show. Early to bed, but we didn't sleep any better.
The weather started off warm and sunny, but in the course of the afternoon a cold front came
by with hail, and later snow. At the show, there were even fewer stewards, and Yvonne did it for a while, though she swore never to do it again.
To my recollection, she never did.
I didn't do well either: a Maine Coon
bit me in the right hand, going almost through the palm just below the little finger. Off
to the hospital, taking Mme. Biacasse [?], a French short-hair judge, with me: she
had a swelling on her chin, but she didn't speak German.
The name is from Yvonne's diary, but although her handwriting is nothing like as bad as
mine, neither of us can uniquely identify the name.
The hospital treatment was less than good. Despite my insistence, they refused to give me
antibiotics, though they should have known that a cat bite is about the most infectious
thing that can happen to you. Instead the doctor spent much time attending to Mme Biacasse,
who apparently had other issues: she works in a pathology laboratory, and the doctor knew
better than she that the other issues were really dangerous. In the end he removed the
infection, apparently almost without anæsthetic.
The journey home was terrible. My hand swelled up like a balloon, and I had to get Yvonne
to drive at night, something that she dislikes at the best of times, but this was through
the driving snow.
Off to the doctors this morning. She put my arm in a sling, and I'm off work for a week.
Bloody idiot of a doctor in Kempten! If
he had given me an antibiotic, there would probably not have been any problems.
Yana had spent the weekend with the Langers, but she wasn't in
the best of shape either: she had spent a lot of time coughing.
We later discovered that this was an allergic reaction. For reasons we never
understood, Mrs. Langer used ridiculous quantities of fabric softener, and Yana was
allergic to the overpowering perfume.
