During the course of many (most) days, I can be heard telling
someone Facebook a little story that usually starts… ‘So today I tried/forgot/lost/fell etc. I always seem to find myself in situations that I really didn’t need to be in. They undoubtedly include something I’ve done by accident and almost always make me look stupid.
A good few years ago (when we still lived in the UK) I’d noticed a lump on my beloved cat. I was at work so I sent Chas with Orca to the vet. Orca was a 9kg beast of a cat who was absolutely terrified of the vet so we tried to limit the trips for when it was really serious. Anyway, this lump was definitely serious enough.
I was worried and literally kept my fingers crossed all day. I could barely concentrate on work and when the call finally came from Chas, I was in a mild panic.
I should have known by Chas’s tone of voice that he wasn’t amused. But oblivious, I continued in a nonsensical babble down the phone, not really wanting to listen to any bad news. Finally Chas stopped me mid-sentence and informed me that next time I find a lump, I’m taking the bloody cat to the vet myself. ‘Apparently’ he was something of a laughing stock at the vet because that lump was in fact Orca’s scrotum and penis.
OOPS! What was I thinking?
Unfortunately, this came just after another animal event when I agreed to have a gerbil. Not that I remembered agreeing to such a thing as it came after an afternoon drinking session.
However, agree I did, and it was preceded a few days earlier by my stumbling upon a hamster wandering the street late one night. I took it home and while I was out buying a new cage with all the toys, trimmings, bells and whistles, Chas rather thoughtlessly went and located the owner – a little boy who lived down the road and was distraught at losing his beloved pet. My hamster owning dreams were crushed, despite having spent a small fortune on luxury rodent playthings. I am pretty sure this had a deep psychological impact on my unilateral decision to rehouse the gerbil.
Anyway a couple of days after the aforementioned drinking session I got a phone call at work from Chas telling me my gerbil had arrived. I had, of course, no idea what he was talking about until a flicker of recognition recalled my drunken promise.
OOPS! Again, What was I thinking?
Anyway, I rushed home after work to take the cutie little creature home. I wasn’t entirely sure where it would live given that we had a cat who had a fondness for drowning mice in his water bowl (that’s another story!) But I was sure he was going to have the most amazing life with us and Rasta (our dog) was going to LOVE it!
He was called Oscar and he was the cutest little thing until I held him. He bit me so hard that I thought his teeth may come through the other side of my finger. I instantly dropped him, he ran off and I was terrified he’d end up in Orca’s water bowl. Luckily however Rasta was on hand and sniffed Oscar out. The only problem was I had to pick him up again to put him back in his cage. Maybe he just needed to get used to me.
After a few weeks of extreme and multiple puncture marks to every finger, I realised perhaps this was the reason Oscar had been rehomed. He clearly hated me, but I didn’t give up while he never stopped biting me, I like to think he was relatively happy at Chez Begley!