Moggy

I don’t write much about Herself’s psychotic cat. Most of the time no-one would believe the stuff the little git does anyway.

However, one thing that is beyond dispute is that this cat is a dirty sod. I’ve never seen it in a cat before,but he just doesn’t clean himself up at all. Most of the time this isn’t too bad, but come spring he goes outside and sleeps under cars, and generally ends up oily, dirty, and – frankly – bloody manky. At the moment his fur is almost in dreadlocks in places – utterly matted.

We’d made an appointment for the little sod to go to the vets and get the matted bits removed. Yes, the vets need to do it. He’s a dangerous wee beastie – the people who read Mike Ripley’s “Angel” books will understand if I say that this thing would give Springsteen a run for his money. To get sorted out he needs to be anaesthetised, and then they can trim/shave the fur.

Of course, this means that the cat can’t have food for 12 hours or so before going in – and he wasn’t in in time to eat last night before 8pm. So he’s had no food all night, and thus keeps us awake by yowling for food, plucking carpet, attacking beds, anything to get attention and thus get food. But no, we were good, and didn’t feed the annoying little sod.

By morning though, I have to say I wasn’t awake. Residue from yesterday’s joys plus lack of sleep equated with twuntdom.

I let the bloody cat out. As Scary would say, “Oh spoons“.

So we’ve now got to go through it all again tonight. I may just nail the little sod’s feet to the floor, and superglue his lips together. Alternatively, I’m going to ask the vet to shave the cat in the style of a poodle. If everyone laughs at him for three months while the fur grows again, he may learn to clean himself up…