The cat is back.
She now has a lack of teeth, has been shaved in no particular fashion and can’t poo. I’m sure I have just heard her talk to her anus, not very polite in public but she did use the word please. I suppose I should not have been watching. I think of ‘Squeeze: Cool for Cats’ but this cat can’t and it’s not cool. It is merely a side effect of the drugs she is on. When I say drugs, I’m talking medication here, she’s not on stimulants, not to my knowledge- I suppose you can’t trust those dodgy-alley-cat-bastards. The other girls bum in my life remains an issue also… not on a superficial issue – don’t be foolish, I have no issues with her derriere (she reads this) though she may disagree with my honesty.
Exhibit A, Your Honour: He purchased a pair of dainty knickers just last week for a Christmas gift that were several sizes too big, with a matching bra several sizes too small.
Basically it went a little…no…a lot, pear shaped. No wonder the girls at the till insisted the gift receipt went in the box. “Sir, it really would make her life easier.”
No really, a nugget of poo…Yes! A conker, the cat has dropped it’s conker. (Buckeyes I believe is the US term but hey I’m no expert on this or poo).
Well, when it’s cool for cats, it’s cool for cats! Well done cat, that last lick was a master stroke. Any more from whence that came?
I digress from my rambling of the other bum, it’s still red, still hurts, still infected, she mentions it now and again but at least she can poo without her eyeballs popping out.
Today not much else has been achieved, but I am aware of how my life is moving in a direction, just like my cats bowels. You may be wondering… and I do this lots too, does this chap not work? Well I do, however, I don’t go back to work until next Monday, allowing me time to keep detailed logs on two bottoms. I won’t spoil what my occupation is but have faith that I do have employment. I am not a vet.
I bid you farewell.