Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

FlorenceWatch: Day 3

I'd hate to see my google history over the last couple of days. I mean, beyond the usual stuff (will somebody please post some pictures of Ben Browder doing Ryan Reynolds? Don't tell me there's no consumer interest, people) there's this whole swathe of cat related enquiries that are going to sit very oddly next to my usual search criteria. If I ever put 'yiffing' in along with the other two sets, some alarm is going to ring at Microsoft and I'm going to be carted away to a white room somewhere and played tapes of Mariah Carey and told to be normal.

OK. Mariah. Normal. Bad choice.

One such search term was 'how much do cats crap'. Cat has been with us for almost three days now and I've idly been checking her litter tray just to make sure that the place isn't going to be stunk out by Wiskas scented coils, but there has nary been a cable laid in there. This then leads on to all sorts of questions, the most important being 'has she gone and nipped one out under my bed?' The answer was no, leading to more searching and even more concern.

In fairness, she was off her food the first day. I think she was scared of the new environment, or actually dazzled by a home where someone had planned the interior decorating. You see, her actual home seems to go for 'flea-market chic', misses completely, and ends up as 'Portabello market stall circa five pm'. I sympathise: I've been in some gay homes that have been so tear-inducingly gorgeous that I've not even wanted to go into the bedroom and ruffle up their Conrad sheets. Fortunately, like Cat, I got over this quickly - and the gentleman in question even quicker.

So two days without curling one out. Poor Cat. I was afraid to pick her up, in case she was full and moving her would rupture her lower intestine, spending time picturing her like a fur-lined icing bag that one squeeze too hard would result in a very explosive display.

You'll be pleased to know that this morning, when I padded through in my Goofy slippers, Cat had given birth to what can only be described as a healthy one-pound offspring. And fuck me, it stunk...


Tim said...

I wouldn't go eating any stray Revels or Mar Planets you might find scattered around…

Kathleen Bradean said...

So the saying is true. After three days, fish and cat guests begin to stink.

Maus! said...

SPOUTED OVER Ben Browder doing Ryan Reynolds

what?! when?!