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Tuesday, April 17, 2007

The Tuesday Twat(s)

No. 86. Cats.

Now I realise that this may be a touch controversial. That there may be readers that have a fondness for these nasty little brutes.

My Blog my rules.

Why my ire I hear you ask?

Well, two weeks ago, my best mates went on holiday. Seven AM the day they were due to go, my phone rang.

"Uh, Hi. Can I ask an eensy weensy favour, please?"


"Last night, when we were preparing to take the cats to my parents, we found a flea".

As a biologist, I felt obliged to point out that fleas aren't like Leopards or Eagles. Where there is one, there is usually a shit load more nearby.
He agreed, hence the favour.
Would it be possible for me to drive 10 miles every night to feed them and clean out their litter trays?


My only pets as a child were numerous short-lived Goldfish and an elderly budgie. I'd never had anything that required that sort of looking after.

"Don't worry, you don't have to pet them or anything."

They've got fleas - you're damn right I'm not fucking petting them.

"Oh, and they have to stay in. They'll probably try and get past you when you go out the back. Don't let them".

Naturally, I jumped at the chance.

Now here's the thing. I don't mind driving over there every evening. It's a fairly pleasant, relaxing drive and twenty years of friendship is worth a few minutes behind the wheel I think.

So, OK. How bad could it be.


Let's just put it this way, the cats were on dirty protest at their unexpected confinement. Shunning the litter tray and leaving small landmines all over the hallway, I realised just how smelly cats are. Add to that the fact that one of the cats appeared to be off his food (he's always a bit funny for the first 24 hours I'm told), and the scene reminded me of the Maze prison during the troubles (PS don't tell my mate, but I've renamed the one off his food Bobby Sands).

Something I also discovered rather quickly is that cat food is revolting. The smell made my stomach churn. Even worse, lifting the litter tray I discovered to my horror that one of them had the runs and had half missed the tray, causing it to pour off the side on to the carpet - to this day, I don't know how I didn't vomit on the spot.

In all fairness, by the end of the 2 weeks, I appear to have gottten used to the odour of cat shit and don't lose my appetite at the faintest wiff of cat food. However, if this was an attempt to convince me that my life would be more fullfilled if I owned a cat - I'm afraid it has failed dismally.

My friends got back last week.

"How was it - I hope it wasn't too bad for you?"

"No, of course not it was fine. Just don't go in the kitchen barefoot".

Well, that's what being a mate is all about innit?




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