Sunday, September 6, 1981
The kitten cried all night and Rob & Carol didn't sleep. We played with it most of the morning, but were still depressed. The kitten is uncoordinated and falls over when he shakes himself and Carol is affectionate with him but still seems halfhearted and unenthusiastic. There are signs of George everywhere; it was as if he might just come padding across the floor, his tail in the air.
We went to a pub in Upper Sike and took Wilmott with us. He whinged all the way, and then Robert and Carol drove me back to Easterby, getting there at seven. It’s funny, but getting back home made me sink back into sadness I felt really upset again, and after they'd left, I again felt like crying. All over a cat! Dad showed me Thomas Hardy’s "Last Words To A Dumb Friend,” which brought hot embarrassed tears spilling down my cheeks.