Pussy Problems

In my previous post I alluded to some difficulties involving pussies.

The situation is thus - some idiots (sorry 'young people') who live down the road from me bought 2 kittens, shut them outside all summer thus providing my kids with free entertainment from dawn til dusk, and then announced that they didn't want the cats anymore as they'd got a Staffie puppy. The cats would be going 'somewhere else' as the dog kept trying to kill them (I'm sure you will be hearing about this dog again - probably on the national news).

You can imagine the rest - begging, pleading, crying (and that was just from Husband with the Sad Face) and me eventually going 'oh OK then, we can keep them, but two things, 1. you pay for ANY expenses they occur and 2. you are totally responsible for ALL of their care. GOT IT?

I still bear the scars of previously owned 're-homed from neighbours' psychotic rabbits - the last thing I need are 2 malnourished kittens but hey, underneath all the shouting and threats, I must have a soft center.......

Roll the clock forward a bit and the kittens need to go the vets to ensure that the never reproduce (my friend Badger Girl has cats that birth in her bed. I might be fully OK with talking about placentas but I've no wish to roll over at 5am and rest my head on one, let alone one belonging to a cat).

Guess who has to take them to the vets?
Guess who has to round them up and shut them in a totally unsuitable cardboard box because 'the man supposedly in charge of the cats' hasn't actually arranged anything more substantial?
Guess who gets as far as the major roundabout in rush hour traffic only for the kids to screech 'waahhh mummmeeee there's a kitten on the parcel shelf! And ANOTHER one!'?
Guess who then has to negotiate the town with kittens pingponging round the car?

Muggins here.

After all that I was told the kittens were actually too small to neuter/spay and I'd have to take them home again...... In a more suitable container...... And pray they weren't sexual active before they reached 2kg in weight.

Sigh.

Never have I fed so much food to two kittens.

Anyway that episode was over and I'd almost forgotten about it until last Monday.

Last Monday I went back to a shift I do in the local hospital.

For this job I have to wear a uniform - a sort of tunic.

I keep the tunic in the boot of my car and put it on once I park (the tunic is pink and is channeling Discount Fashion Stores circa 1982 so I like to keep contact with it to a minimum, last of my street cred and all that).

Anyway on picking up my tunic and I was confused to see something brown attached, rather like a brooch, to the lapel of it.

'Hmmmm' I mused 'what is that? A fir cone? But why would a fir cone be stuck to my tunic??'.

I looked closer.

I blinked.

Could it be mud?

I looked again.

It looked, to be frank, not unlike a cat poo. A dried, adhered to fabric, cat poo.

I bent closer and nervously sniffed.

Noooo, how on earth would my work tunic get dried cat turd attached to it? It hadn't been out the boot of my car.....

Ah.

Yes. One of those delightful kittens - THAT BELONG TO MY HUSBAND - had shat all over my work uniform during its 'trip to the vets' escapade.

Oh what to do?

My first thought was 'nevermind, hopefully it's on the inside so the stain won't show and I'm sure I've got a can of Impulse somewhere in the car' but that was quickly followed by an attack of conscious. I mean what's the point in alcohol gelling your hands 20 times a day and being 'naked from the elbow down' if you are going to sport 'essence de cat shite' inside your uniform and spread some kind of feline bacterium from Ward to Ward?

I can see the local paper now. Just below the story about someone's Glorious Cock being bothered by local youths and above an article inviting you to pop along to the library to see a demonstration on the dangers of chip pan fires, it will read 'Mystery Bug Rampages Through Hospital - Infected Pussy Sought' and I shall never sleep easy again.

I threw it back in the boot, pretended I'd forgotten it, and boil washed it when I got home.

And that, I hope, is that.

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