Cincinnati dreaming on such a winter's day...

I am, for reasons historic, a fan of the Cincinnati Reds. Since 1990, when my attention was first drawn to them, their successes have been few and far between. In that sense, they're like most of the teams I follow, broadly unsuccessful but enthusiastic.

I've even managed to watch them play a few times, notably the afternoon in Denver when they beat the Colorado Rockies 24-12 (the most runs they've scored in a game since 1911), but never at their new(ish) ballpark, Great American Ball Park. I had intended to do that last year but... pandemic...

Their Group Operations Manager very kindly refunded the cost of my tickets and gave me a credit on my account so that I could order new tickets at some point in the future. Hopefully, that will happen in August (yes, I know, I'm being a bit optimistic here).

And, as encouragement, the Reds have started the season rather well. Despite a slightly disappointing Opening Day loss to the St Louis Cardinals, five straight wins have followed and, joy of joys, they're scoring for fun. Twenty-seven runs in three games against the Cardinals, thirty more in three games against the Pittsburgh Pirates and we're top of the division. Only 156 more games to go...

Cincinnati (1993-2010)

It is with much regret that I announce the death of Cincinnati, our much loved and much treasured orange and white cat, of multiple causes, this morning at approximately 11.30.

For those that knew him, especially in his prime, it will be hard to imagine his passing, as he was the ultimate 'people cat'. He was always first on the scene when there were visitors to the house, and he took a keen interest in the activities of service engineers, estate agents and Liberal Democrats.

But it was our personal bond that made him a central part of my life. A combination of the world's loudest purr, the rich orange colour of his fur, and his utter conviction that my life would be improved by regular grooming, especially if administered by him, meant that, no matter how messy my personal life was, a few minutes in his company would be enough to bring a smile.

In his last years, he discovered outside, an additional room which came with a soft, green carpet, high ceilings and a revolving set of moving furniture, apparently called birds or squirrels. He took to it like a zoo lion transferred to the Serengeti. It was obviously designed for him to wander around, and the garage was perfect as a place for an old codger to sit peacefully.

His final move to Suffolk added an additional year to his life, and he took to village life with enthusiasm. His late-blooming interest in local politics, his careful project management of the new office building, despite a combination of an overactive thyroid, failing kidneys and a growing tumour at the base of his tail, gave him purpose in his final months.

He will be greatly missed, by both of us...

The continuing perils of Cincinnati...

Whilst visiting the pharmaceutical plant, I received a message from home. Cincinnati had been rushed to the vet, and I needed to ring the practice to find out what was happening. Luckily, the vet was satisfied that he had had a good night and was recovering well. However, I would need to bring him in again on our return.

And so, a fortnight ago, I took Cincinnati back to the vet, with Katherine for company. There is no doubt that he is struggling, in that he is losing weight, his hind legs are weakened by muscle loss, and he is generally slower. The vet concluded that he was suffering from a hyperactive thyroid and early stage renal disease, and prescribed medication and a change of diet.

A fortnight later, not much has changed. He takes his medication every day, whether he likes it or not. The new cat food is not to his taste, even though it is low in phosphorus and fearfully expensive, so I treat him with expensive, nice-tasting cat food. Signs of recovery are, at this stage, few and far between, but he still enjoys a stroll around the garden, even if he wobbles a little from time to time.

Cinci has had a good run, and at sixteen years old, he has outlived average life expectancy for a house cat. In the meantime, we'll make him as comfortable as possible, keep him warm and safe, and give him as much attention as we can.

Mr Cincinnati goes to the polling station

One of the joys of village life is that everything is so much less tense. I thought that I might test this theory by paying one last visit to the polling station... with my cat, Cincinnati.

So, with orange and white cat over my shoulder, I strolled down The Lane (original street name, that one), to thank the presiding officer and assistant for their efforts today. Cincinnati purred his approval too, and we had a quick catchup.

The final number of votes cast in Creeting St Peter was 76, 35.4% of eligible voters. There are 14 postal voters on the register, so turnout will probably reach 40%.