More than a few of my friends at the club think I have taken leave of my senses. However I feel that I must move with the times and my wife Kitty threatened to disallow martinis if I got in the way of her shouted wishes. So here we are, accompanied by the loathsome cats Pericles and Bertram, who, I am delighted to say, hate every moment.
The first night they strutted their stuff outside our beautiful front door in the centre of this seaside town, full of their usual feline haughtiness. Kitty had told them to try to make new friends, a largely foreign concept, by sauntering about the new neighbourhood.
It was then they discovered the reason that no other cats had been noted in the streets on the taxi ride to our quarters the day before, only dogs and a few nervous chickens.
Pericles and Bertram had proceeded down the hill a few metres, only to be brought up short by 1,100 heavily testicled hounds of all shapes and no particular breed.
Bertram waggled his ears in a nervous greeting while Pericles, the wiser one, was of a mind to retrace their steps hurriedly. The first we knew of it was the strangled screams when they somehow squeezed through the bars at the front window. That was followed by the heavy thumps of unneutered waves of dogs hitting our garden walls.
The event has really cheered me up, as the wretched cats sit shivering like sherbet in the corner of the guest room with no intention of moving until the departing plane opens its door in a few weeks’ time. What a kickoff for my festive season! I draw closer to our Mexican friends.
I will truly miss our grandchildren on Christmas Eve, when we would normally watch Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, no finer story for the season. Still maybe we all need a break from the stress and strain of this time. Tradition should be relaxed once in a while, particularly when our children have families and therefore rituals of their own.
If I am honest, I feel free and I am sure Kitty, if tortured, would also agree, though she almost fainted when the offspring decided to give Christmas in Puerto Vallarta a miss. The endless frenzy of buying and planning brings an early grave and for what? To see some son or daughter of ours telling their children to thank Nana and Grandfather under threat of no candy?
I believe Mexico will be the making of us, as I feel healthier than I have in a long time and Kitty is cooking smaller portions, which is a good thing. The only problem here is the ambient noise. I did not know, for instance, that all roosters in P.V. are blind; what other reason can there be for their 3 a.m. shouts of “Good morning!”
This reminds the dozing street dogs that daytime has begun, albeit in the dark, and with that the barking begins. Then all sorts of vehicles that play music at a high volume begin to meander down our street for garbage pickup or gas delivery.
Strangely, I am becoming used to the madness of this new culture and I am content. To me it is preferable to the sociopathic ambulance driver who throws on his siren every few days in the dead of night and races down our Victoria street with no car in sight. I used to lie in bed knowing that he or she was grinning maniacally.
Nevertheless Kitty looks very attractive with a deep tan and she took my hand during our late-night walk (8 p.m.). She is gazing at me. Holy smokes!
I wish everyone the best of Christmas spirit from P.V. This could be a new tradition.
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