Tip Little and Poodle Murphy are at the vet’s today having their nadgers removed. I’m feeling rather traumatised about the whole thing (although, to be fair, probably not as traumatised as they are).
It was bad enough having four mental cats trotting around after me all morning, demanding food, which they weren’t allowed in advance of the operation. Then there was the anxiety over the very questionable sturdiness of the cat basket; there were parking dramas and payment problems - the vet, who sounds like Morgan Freeman, wanted the money up front but all the cashpoints were busted up. I had to traipse the length of the Bethnal Green Road. By the time I got the fat wodge of cash and made it back to the surgery, Tip and Poodle were shaking like little black velvet sacks of terrifiedness. When the vet said, “You won’t forget to pick them up, will you?” I nearly burst into tears. Yeah, like I won’t be worrying about them every minute all day.
I do feel a bit bad for the kitten boys that when we first all got in the car to drive up to there, the Tom Waits song that just happened to be playing was “I Know I’ve Been Changed”. I wonder how long it will be before I can listen to that again without thinking of cat castration…
Monday, March 14, 2005
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Old Peculiar
So last night I was discussing some strategic management issues with my fabulous deputy, Kitty L’Amour.
A shadow fell over us and we looked up to see Jez, The Mighty R standing next to my desk, holding an open black folder and a pen.
“I’ve already started writing the ticket – it’s not my problem, love!”
Kitty and I stared at each other, confused and a little frightened. Just as I opened my mouth to ask what the fuck he was talking about, he continued (quite forcefully), “Just pay the fine and appeal later.”
Turns out he wanted to be a traffic warden for the day.
A shadow fell over us and we looked up to see Jez, The Mighty R standing next to my desk, holding an open black folder and a pen.
“I’ve already started writing the ticket – it’s not my problem, love!”
Kitty and I stared at each other, confused and a little frightened. Just as I opened my mouth to ask what the fuck he was talking about, he continued (quite forcefully), “Just pay the fine and appeal later.”
Turns out he wanted to be a traffic warden for the day.
Monday, March 07, 2005
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Brizzle
This week has been decidedly iffy. Cold, grey, soggy and with few bright spots. And I am not just talking about the weather. Last weekend was good though – hanging out with mates in Bristol.
We went to the zoo, where they have blue frogs the size of a teaspoon scoop. There were lions but some chavette was banging on the glass.
Her mate squawked, “What yer fuckin' doin’, Kels?”.
“Oim just tryin’ get ‘im a look at me!” shrieked Kels, manoeuvring her kid’s pushchair violently.
I thought I would be disappointed that there weren’t more of the larger animals but there was a wonderful time to be had looking at all the little creatures in Twilight World, the Insect House, the Reptile House, the Aviary, the Aquarium …
We arrived excitedly at the otter enclosure – firm faunal favourites with us all – but the cute little beasties were nowhere to be seen. Just as we were about to walk away, one scampered out with something white in its mouth. A second otter emerged, also carrying some white booty, which turned out to be rat. Our group watched in horror as the otters proceeded to tear the rodents limb from limb. They started by biting off the feet and then chewed their heads until the skin came away. Next came the evisceration. The dark red insides of the rats opened up and organs slipped out over dirty wet white fur onto the rocks. As we ogled, dumfounded at the brutality of the natural world, a family with small children approached the enclosure and the adults joined us in looking aghast. The kids of course pressed their faces to the glass and stared blankly, confirming - without question - my assertion that all youngsters these days are utterly desensitised to death and gore (due to the bifurcate evils of TV and video games, obviously).
I had the idea that otters only ate fish but the keeper told us they will take down a seagull, if it happens to stray into their pen on the scavenge.
All in all though, it was a lovely outing with some hilarious moments:
Gem: “Oh, oh! Look at those torpedo speedo things!
John: “Gemma! They’re PENGUINS!!”
And there were pockets of magic… like walking through tunnels underwater whilst the seals swam upside down above us; like miniscule toads kissing each other a dozen times; like the leaf-cutter ants making fungus farms; like the beetles that shone like Moorish jewels; like the Picasso fish; like the Postman Butterfly which feeds sometimes on the salty tears of alligators; like just being with best friends in the thin February sunshine, on a freezing cold day, laughing.
We went to the zoo, where they have blue frogs the size of a teaspoon scoop. There were lions but some chavette was banging on the glass.
Her mate squawked, “What yer fuckin' doin’, Kels?”.
“Oim just tryin’ get ‘im a look at me!” shrieked Kels, manoeuvring her kid’s pushchair violently.
I thought I would be disappointed that there weren’t more of the larger animals but there was a wonderful time to be had looking at all the little creatures in Twilight World, the Insect House, the Reptile House, the Aviary, the Aquarium …
We arrived excitedly at the otter enclosure – firm faunal favourites with us all – but the cute little beasties were nowhere to be seen. Just as we were about to walk away, one scampered out with something white in its mouth. A second otter emerged, also carrying some white booty, which turned out to be rat. Our group watched in horror as the otters proceeded to tear the rodents limb from limb. They started by biting off the feet and then chewed their heads until the skin came away. Next came the evisceration. The dark red insides of the rats opened up and organs slipped out over dirty wet white fur onto the rocks. As we ogled, dumfounded at the brutality of the natural world, a family with small children approached the enclosure and the adults joined us in looking aghast. The kids of course pressed their faces to the glass and stared blankly, confirming - without question - my assertion that all youngsters these days are utterly desensitised to death and gore (due to the bifurcate evils of TV and video games, obviously).
I had the idea that otters only ate fish but the keeper told us they will take down a seagull, if it happens to stray into their pen on the scavenge.
All in all though, it was a lovely outing with some hilarious moments:
Gem: “Oh, oh! Look at those torpedo speedo things!
John: “Gemma! They’re PENGUINS!!”
And there were pockets of magic… like walking through tunnels underwater whilst the seals swam upside down above us; like miniscule toads kissing each other a dozen times; like the leaf-cutter ants making fungus farms; like the beetles that shone like Moorish jewels; like the Picasso fish; like the Postman Butterfly which feeds sometimes on the salty tears of alligators; like just being with best friends in the thin February sunshine, on a freezing cold day, laughing.
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