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Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Catastrophe

Poor old Ginger Bob has been through the wars. In the last couple of days his fang has been dropping lower than usual and then we noticed it was bloody. So it was off to the vets. To say he was unimpressed about being stuffed into a catbox and bundled into a taxi.

A few minutes into the taxi ride to Tynemouth there was a smell so dreadful that I had to open the window. Yes, you guessed it - the taxi driver had farted! Ginger Bob, despite the terror he was going through had managed to maintain control of his sphincter. Mercifully, the trip from Whitley Bay to Tynemouth is very short and so I was able to escape the toxic gut-rot fug fairly quickly.

"It'll need to come out" said the vet after a quick but surprisingly uneventful examination. "The bad news is we can't do that here. You'll need to take him to our branch in Heaton tomorrow."

So, this morning I bundled the hapless feline into the box. He went ballistic!

The above snap doesn't convey the frantic scrabbling and fury which his Bobness wrought upon the portcullis-like gate. It was damaged in the first attempt to get him in the box and had to be held tight shut via a pen! Lesley kindly took me to Heaton (where I used to live in the early 80s) and we dropped off the unhappy cat. I was to check in after lunchtime as to how he was doing.

Lesley, who was on her way to meet her daughter in Gateshead, dropped me here...


and so I was able to do some catching up in my usual spot...


The morning was spent updating web sites and working on liner notes and reading this...


Then to the vets in Heaton. I had to take the metro to Byker. En route two young men were talking about the importance of training your dog from an early age: what you have to do is terrorise it when it's a puppy so when you tell it to do something it does straight away.

Yup, I'm in cretin county here folks.

Ginger Bob was awake but drooling heavily, as you would if you'd had four teeth removed. His fang had been infected for some time it appears and the infection had spread.

Poor old cat - he was probably in a lot of pain for some time. Of course he comes in to eat and then very often buggers off and so it's difficult to tell if he's out of sorts.

In the taxi going home he put up a bit of a groggy struggle...


Back home he limped about and generally looked terrified whenever he saw me approaching.

5 comments:

Jeffman said...

Methinks those two lads with the dog might've been taking their training tips from a certain Leonard 'Oz' Osbourne.

When giving Barry unwanted advice on his impending nuptials, he offers something along the lines of:

"[having a wife] is a bit like training a dog. Terrorise the bastard when it's small, then it won’t give you any lip when they're bigger."

Sid Smith said...

What's this a reference from, Nick?

Jeffman said...

The great 'Auf Wiedersehen, Pet', Sid. Series 2, when they're kipping down at Thornley Manor.

Sid Smith said...

Ah - that certainly explains it and yes, probably where the cretin on the Metro nabbed it from.

In other news I've never seen a single episode of Auf Wiedersehen, Pet. Not one!

Jeffman said...

What the dickens?

You're missing a treat, Sid. The first two series from the 1980s, at least.

The later revisits weren't much cop.

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