The news of the day as seen from the perspective of a pensionable domestic moggy called Fluffy.

Saturday, December 31, 2005

Dodging the bullet

Bless them, they've been worried about me. It is true that I've been losing weight. It is true I've been acting a bit, well, mental. I'm not my usual nimble self - in fact, I've been nothing if not a bit wobbly on me feet.

So, this morning I know there's trouble when The Box reappears from the loft. That means either (a) we're moving house or (b) some overpaid prat is going to shove their finger up my arse. And they weren't packing boxes.

I know it's for my own good but there's a depressing sense of foreboding, nay doom, that descends upon a cat when they are being transported to have their anus manhandled. I squeaked and miaowed but my fate was sealed.

In fact, it was worse than that. There were mutterings about 'the next cat' and 'how depressing it was to put a cat down'. Cheers. Let's face it - as far as they were concerned, it was 50/50 whether it was going to be a miracle cure or death by lethal injection. Gulp.

As it happens, it turned out okay really. Okay, I know weigh a mere 1.5 kilos and I had the indignity of having my abdomen manhandled, but actually he said I was merely getting old and not to worry too much. I've got some new food (much nicer, moist and tasty) and he didn't even shove his finger up my bottom. Result!

So, once again I've dodged the bullet. There's no keeping a good moggy down.

It's also a bit ridiculous. If losing weight quite rapidly and acting like a mentalist was good cause for being killed, Geri Halliwell would have left this mortal coil at the point of a syringe long ago.