A WICKED PERSON...

I am a wicked, wicked person.  I've spent the better part of today, grinning from ear to ear, and enjoying many hearty bellylaughs.

At the expense of our cats.

It started like this. White River and environs has a Rabies issue, and the State Vet visits the town annually, giving free Rabies vaccinations to pets that are taken to the local meeting point. I discovered this last year, and was thrilled, as the vets bills had mounted up; thanks largely to the maraunding ginger tom who regularly came into our house and duffed up Speckle.  Saving R400 on a set of vaccinations was like an early Christmas gift, and I carefully made a note of this annual freebie.

It was disappointing to discover when I called the department earlier this week, that they'd "done" the White River visit earlier this year, due to an outbreak of Rabies in town.

But bless her cotton socks, Rosina, the voice on the other end of the phone, immediately asked for our address, and said that she'd come over on Friday and vaccinate the cats.  Free.

A call early this morning, to confirm that we were still on, meant immediate action had to be taken to corral and confine the cats. 

Oh, for Roberts Kitty Confinement, a complicated design he'd made whilst in Primary School. He'd got it into his head that in order to 'love' and pet his kitten, she needed to be kept somewhere he could find her, and stop her hiding (probably in fear of her life - he was a very passionate 8 year old!)  Caringly, he'd devised all sorts of kitten entertainment for her, to ensure that she got regular exercise, enjoyed toys, food and a comfy bed.

Several house moves meant that Kitty Confinement got left behind somewhere; but with their weird 6th sense, the cats spent all of yesterday out of sight, as if they knew 'something wicked this way comes'.

Nothing for it but to ensure they were very hungry this morning, and were easily persuaded to bound into the bathroom for brekkie. 

Bang! Door closed, a post it stuck on the outside, promising hell and damnation if Robert let them out until the vet arrived, job done.

And then it started.  The angry howling, and crashing and banging of a furry body against the door.  Startling at first, as the yowling and bumping continued throughout the day, my funny bone was well tickled.

Perhaps I should explain about Speckle.  Not quite all there, nicknamed 'special needs cat' by the boys, she is affectionate in the extreme and will NOT be separated from her humans.  She is incredibly powerful and strong, moving bricks and furniture away from the cat flap, to ensure that she is not kept out of the house.

A weird scraping noise woke us all up early one morning, shortly after we'd moved in.  Shut outdoors, she'd gone round and round, until she found the weak spot - a small hole in the masonery where the toilet outlet pipe had been moved.  Determinedly, she enlarged the gap and forced her way in through the brick wall, and bounded onto our bed, purring loudly and proudly.  She'd found us!

So this cat is not to be messed with.  Supercat strength, without common sense and an IQ of about 10, means that serious damage can happen! 

But what sort of a person am I?  Did I for one minute consider that the cats were distressed?  Nope, I chuckled away at what I considered a childish cat tantrum.  And even Robert had to laugh at the sight of Egg, doing her best to squeeze her podgy body into a tiny gap behind the linen basket.  Clearly, she was terrified of the tantrum and hadn't found it as amusing as we did.

Thank you Speckle and Egg, you sure cheered up my day!

And before you set the SPCA on me, S & E were in a large bathroom, floor covered with cosy towels, plenty of food and water to hand, as well as a litterbox.  Considering that Speckle spends her days scooched up on the back of the couch, snoozing, occasionally moving 20m to her food bowl, a few hours in Alcatraz was NOT going to harm her!  Egg is no better, she adds an official looking perambulation of the perimeter fence, a short walk into the wetland reserve behind the house and a wistful stare at the bird table, before taking up her place on the back of the armchair, or tucking herself into my intray.

Rosina arrived as promised, the cats were duly vaccinated and after a short visit outdoors, have resumed their lethargic positions, splayed all over the lounge furniture, none the worse for a few hours confinement.

That's over with until next year, thank goodness.