Odd - considering I don't have a cat.
Or maybe I do? Maybe one is camped out behind the dishwasher in the hope of catching one of the rats?
It's OK. I think they are all dead. Well some of them are.... I can still smell them, even they died a long long time ago.
It happened something like this:
One morning the baby started yowling at 5am and, in order to silence him, I decided to get him some warm milk. Our microwave (please, no lectures on the danger of microwaving milk.... The kid eats candles for gods sake - his gut is superhuman) is in the conservatory so out I padded - in nothing but my very skimpy nightie and bare feet (I have NO idea why I was wearing a skimpy nightie - I guess all my PJs were in the wash and it was lurking in the bottom of my chest of draws from the days when I actually took a thrill in nightwear.).
So I stand there - pretty much bare - and suddenly hear a rustling. Something is moving on top of the pram raincover! Next thing that 'something' flies through the air, hits my thigh, falls onto my foot and scuttles down behind the dishwasher.
Scream?? No actually - I was so shocked I just stood there. Went back to bed and tried to erase the feel of it's claws on my thigh.
Things deteriorated from there. Two days later one ran up my tights when I went to put the heating on (gulp) and a week later my OH opened the guinea pig's hutch to think 'ohhh we've got a new guinea pig!' only to realise that no, it was actually a huge great rat, camped out in their bed.
We poisoned them all and they died. A few weeks later - Christmas Eve actually - a bloom of bluebottles infested the house. So we ate Christmas dinner with flies buzzing round our heads and my OH running round the house like Wiley Coyote with a roll of wrapping paper.
So you can probably imagine that the smell of cat wee is worrying me slightly. Knowing the way my life tends to go, expect the next post to be about me finding the Exmoor Beast in the laundry bin....