How to make a complete tit out of yourself …


In my defence … M is not well and I am worried sick about her. Another friend is dying in hospital of the exact same cancer that killed my Mum. Overrun is no longer the way I would describe the situation with homeless cats and dogs – I would now describe it as a holocaust because animal rescue places are no longer able to cope and are many are having to either stop taking animals in or make some very tough choices about euthanasia.

Also, I had spent Saturday and Sunday night in the company of a rather nice man who was supposed to be an addition to my Friends with Benefits list but instead managed not only to sneak onto my facebook list a couple of years back without me noticing but also managed to sneak into that category of men that won’t fit into an FwB list because they are just too damned near relationshit material to work.

So .. I was a little distracted …

On the up side, I had done a wonderful home visit on Friday for a dog whose owner was heartbreakingly having to give her up due to his wife running off with someone else, taking his home and his kids away in one fell swoop.

I was already tired when I started out on the journey. Although technically not far from me, it was a train ride and a walk or two bus journeys. Short on time, I chose the train and swore when I realised I had miscalculated and the walking was twice as long as I had anticipated. Hot, short of breath and more than a little grumpy, I arrived and met G and her family who were simply delightful and a home checker’s dream.
Not only are they experienced dog owners but they fully took into account how Bella might feel, jettisoned from her home to a one bedroom flat with her owner and then onto completely new people and a new place. Never had I seen a family who prepared so assidiously for a pet and when I remarked on this G said, “well it is like taking a child into your home, innit?” Never a truer word was spoken …
They also feed 10 feral cats, all related and had had the Cats Protection League in previously to have the cats neutered when their “owner” decided she wanted them to live “natural lives”. We discussed the number of stray cats in the area and this essentially led to my downfall today …

My weekend afterwards then went a bit like this … get home, feed the furries, catch up on emails, wake up late, throw some clothes into Marion’s, have a chat, get back and have a snooze, get up, feed everyone, start the cleaning. Get in bath, go out to meet the Stalker, he’s late back from his journey across the country, go to pub, have drink, get startled by him arriving whilst I was facebooking, despite initial pre-meet reservations have brilliant evening, get home way too late for sensible, exchange texts until 3am, get up at 9, run to M’s, think very hard about this man and whether I want a relationshit again (answer: no I don’t want my heart broken again thank you, ever again), collect cat litter, clean the house.

And then my phone rang.

“Hi TF, it’s G. I don’t know what to do, sorry to phone you but there is a stray cat collapsed on my neighbour’s step and she is just lying there, hardly moving”.

I knew immediately what was wrong with her. I got on the phone to the local vets who have their own emergency service, got hold of a vet, explained the situation and he agreed to treat the cat without up front payment.

What a gem, texted G back, she then had to climb a six foot wall to retrieve the cat and about 20 mins later she texted me to say she was on the way. I had spent the intervening time on facebook, seeing if anyone had a number for the cats’ protection league.

No luck, no luck, no luck.

Called vet back, confirmed G on the way, texted G my true details, wincing slightly because of course I am not known by my real name on facebook and am now so used to being Boudie that I introduced myself to her at the home check as such. Oh well, not to worry.

Thing is, I knew the cat was going to die. Fly strike happens when long haired cats are not cared for properly and can’t clean themselves. Flies gather, lay eggs and maggots eat into their flesh, resulting in septicaemia. It’s horrible to look at, even worse to suffer from.

I lauded G’s bravery on facebook (there are not many people who could or would scale a six foot fence, pick up a dying cat, covered in maggots and gently transport her to an easy release), contacted the lady on whose behalf I was doing the home check, told her what a fab woman she was. Rescue lady said to send her love. I texted G and told her.
One of my friends offered to pay for the cat’s treatment if the CPL failed to pay. I baulked, knowing what an emergency euthanasia would cost. He insisted. This man has never met me, knows me only through facebook and yet would be willing to send me a couple of hundred quid to save a cat from suffering. Absolutely touched beyond measure, I sat at my laptop and cried.

All of this happened in the space of an hour. I then got the text I was expecting to get from G – “can’t talk, crying buckets, not sure why, not even my own fucking cat, cat is dead, vet put her down, it was what you said it was”.

That set me off again. I was crying for the poor cat, crying for M, crying for my dying friend. Crying because the world can be so fucking cruel and then suddenly out of nowhere, people can be heroes, absolute and utter heroes. And I cried because of them too.

I updated my facebook status, updated again when G texted me back. Sent her a text telling her she was a hero.

Then dried my tears, launched into another avalanche of cleaning, sorting out washing etc etc. Spent another lovely evening with the Stalker, woke up late, dashed him out of the door to M’s, dropped two bags of washing off at her’s (poor girl),

Met ex-husby on the train and went to see our mutual friend. More on her later but suffice to say, she is one lovely, lovely lady and apart from touching on her impending death very briefly (and only to compliment the doctors at being good at delivering bad news), she was far more interested in what we were doing and how we were. On the way home, we accidentally ran over a squirrel, which upset me hugely.

Got home much later than expected, ran around like a blue arsed fly trying to get everything ready for the morning and of course it was Stupid O’Clock before any time had passed at all.

Got up at 7.30am, ran around feeding everyone, dashed out of the house and wasn’t quite awake. Got through the day and towards the end of the day my voicemails came through. On it was a frantic call from my workmate, who had a day off, explaining that she had found a sick cat. Equally frantic because the voicemail had been from the weekend, I called her back. Heard nothing, sent her an email.

As she did not get back to me I assumed all was well. Had another late night, exacerbated by talking to the Stalker until 2.30am, got up at 7.30am, ran around as usual and went into work.

Even though I was seriously not awake, the first question I asked my colleague was what had happened with the cat. There was a small pause. The cat died, she said. She then proceeded to tell me the story. It was remarkably similar in content to the cat we had tried to save. If it wasn’t for the fact that she lives up the road from me, and G lives in the next suburb, I would have said it was the same damned cat!

I said this and she looked at me very oddly and I explained.

Halfway through the conversation, with my mouth gaily tripping along of its own accord, my brain caught up. My colleague’s name is … G …  the home check lady’s name was … G.

I decided to end the conversation. I sat at my PC with my head in my hands, suddenly a whole lot of things clicking into place.

My two worlds had indeed collided, with a spectacular bang. G my colleague is ace but she is not a demonstrative person. I had sent her texts with kisses in them. It was this thought that set me off. I started to laugh and then I realised I could not speak. Mortified beyond all reason, I typed her an email.

A few seconds later, she started to laugh. Our boss came back to find both of us howling, truly howling with laughter. She thought I was just being incredibly odd but sweet sending her kisses but I had truly flummoxed her this morning when I asked how the cat was. She had also been very confused by the sending of love to her by a woman she didn’t know but thought it was very sweet also.

We were so poleaxed with hysteria that it took half an hour for anyone to get anything out of us. Several tissues were used to consume the tears. One of us just had to catch the other’s eye and we set each other off again. To my complete embarassment, the entire quarter of our floor gathered around to hear the story.

I am known at work as someone who is superbly organised, clear, concise, up to date, rarely makes a mistake and who can be trusted to sort just about anything out. I may have just dented my reputation a little …

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About titflasher

Writer, blogger, animal activist, people activist, dream-catcher maker, mommy to 9 cats and a roving band of foxes ... Blog name comes from my father's suggestion for the title of my autobiography ... after my mother's and my awful habit of flashing whenever the security police took our photo in the dark old days of apartheid South Africa. I love nature, including creepy crawlies and people, find life fascinating and frustrating and have two terrible weaknesses - nictotine and animals in distress ... can't abide the latter situation and can't give up the former. I'm Pagan but not anti-Christian, funny but quite serious, light-hearted but can be annoying. I am warm-hearted until someone p*sses on me too much, then I get soggy and even. Feel free to link me but all the words on these pages is copyrighted, so copy it and take the credit and I will find you and slap you upside the head, hard. The blog is probably best read via category as there is loads on here already, and I just got started :-)
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2 Responses to How to make a complete tit out of yourself …

  1. 3am Wisdom says:

    Both hilarious and also so sad, but mostly hilarious. 🙂 xxx

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