Sunday, March 23, 2008

WCB - The Strange And Wonderful World Of Having Pets

The only, of course, reason for this probably not being a mindblowingly brilliant blog-post is the fact that I suffer from acute ammonia poisoning due to litter box cleaning. I have no idea why some days of litter box cleaning offer this extra sacheted indulgence, the same hairy bunch using the boxes, same food, same drink, same ol' living - and still, now and then I get an odour knock-out feeling all faint over the boxes. The risk of someone finding the neighbourhood's weird cat lady drowned in the cat litter feels strangely graspable.

Still, it hasn't happen as yet, touch wood it never will. Admittedly the odour knock-out somehow noteably clears my organ of smell. So when I've fought the risk of cat-litter drowning the side-effect is only a positive one.

I should think that that once upon a time experience of breaking an arm whilst bathing a cat was enough of a public-weird-effect-of-pet-owning - and I sure cheered the ER staff up that day when I tried to explain the somewhat unusual reason for me ending up with that broken arm. Cat, bath, slippery slide, ouch.

And that time another cat had actually peed in my sewing machine - may he rest in peace, although it was years later he passed away from something other than his legal liability and the consequences of peeing in a sewing machine - hence I had to have it mended. Including explaining the awkward reason for it. A case of wee-wee.

The same cat once involuntarily ran away from home - involuntarily as in I had forgotten to close the gate to the garden and he felt inclined to have a look outside and then I became really anxious scaring the poor one in to running into the night. Me in some really trashy clothes running after, trying to be very kind and calm when eliciting him from the shrubs outside the house.

Though apparently I scared him even more and when I finally, looking like the bride of Frankenstein, caught up with him I refused to let him go and ended up with deep scratches and blood running all over my arms - then some neighbours walked by and felt it very appropriate to feline-clueless-chitchat. Oh my what a pretty cat, oh my is he angry. Growl, hiss. Please shut up and go away.

Oh, mustn't forget that one time many years ago when my first Persian moved in and the two housecats of mine felt it very appropriate to show her just who were in charge of the house. Bless her, that little one didn't have much of a wit and in all that confusion of moggie-bullying she mistook one of my shoes for a litter box. It felt all mushy in my shoe when I was late for an appointment. Turd alert.

So not only do these furry darlings offer a sight for sore eyes, neverending comfort cuddle for the sad and weary, an end for wearing black, navy or velvet, dry feed elbow, Sisyphean challenge of cleaning litter boxes, they also grant all sorts of strange and exciting events that'll spice up any day and life on a regular basis.

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... add to that list, also being the perfect lovable accessory on the Easter broomstick

3 comments:

John said...

What a beautiful boy! (girl?!) I've never seen such golden eyes. : ) Hope all is well across the pond.

Love from America.

Poppy Q said...

What a beautiful British pussycat with the lovely amber eyes.

What is this ones name miss Pia?

Pia K said...

Thanks John, it's a girl actually and only 6 months old:)

All is pretty much well across the pond, yes!

Thanks, Poppy Q, her name is Viola and her life story pretty much begins here
http://piaks.blogspot.com/2007/09/welcome-to-world.html

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