Miss Smarty Pants
Ahmose had to go to the vets yesterday for a checkup following her speying. This is the second checkup in a week. Now, let me tell you, when I was speyed, it was external stitches and one return visit to have them out about ten days later. None of this namby-pamby internal stitches and several checkups to see if the little diddums is bright eyed and bushy tailed. These cats today, they don’t know what life is. I chewed my own stitches out and it didn’t do me any harm, I can tell you. Then I heard the humans talking about the visit. Apparently, Ahmose is a favourite among the veterinary nurses and was subject to fussing and petting while the checkup was done. Indeed, it seems that there was rather more of the former than the latter. A vet visit is supposed to be traumatic, something to be dreaded, not a picnic in the park. A favourite, indeed; cheeky little beggar. What about me? I’m the one with the brains.
Then today, one of the humans decided to wash his motorbike. I heard him clearly saying that once washed, no cats were to sleep on it. Now, of course, cats are exempt from human rules. But barely was the water dried off than little miss smarty pants Ahmose was sleeping on the seat. That’s my job. Well, mine, Bast’s and Ptolemy’s…
And Isis’ and Hattie’s.
….And Cleo’s, and Caesar’s… well, I guess Arsinoe and Berenike do, too.
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