I've been having trouble with the pussy (as Mrs Slocombe would say) Whilst my parents swan about on the aft deck the Ladyfriend and I are in charge of looking after the house and cats. What we thought might be a bit of an easy stretch - working our way through the wine, fridge, toiletries (I've got a thing about using other people's bubble bath and shampoo - never ask me to look after your house)and broadband hit a snag on Saturday night.
Rosie, who is a bag of nerves to begin with, developed a nasty eye infection and began to eat part of her right leg. So Sunday morning we were vet bound. We crammed the poor thing into a picnic basket and sat on the lid and made off to the surgery.
It was emergencies only due to the bank holiday (and double bubble) We saw a box of baby labradors in a shoe box and an old girl with a tiny dog who shuffled about looking like she's come straight from Central Casting. She got a bit of a shock at the check out when the bill swallowed up the best part of her pension.
We left clutching eye drops and drugs, Rosie had the humiliation of one of those cone collars - that came off when we were out of sight of the building - we thought it a little bit extreme.
She's as right as nine pence now though and wolfing down the Whiskas, if I didn't know better I'd say she did it on purpose, do you think Cats can self harm? Has modern life caught up with animal world? Does the other cat have munchausen by proxy?
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