Did you miss me?
I have returned home, complete with my bags full of presents from Santa, and a sick cat. My parents haven’t quite got the concept of cat stomachs being smaller than human stomachs, so every time I turned around I saw Kat gorging herself on a turkey leg or a cocktail sausage. I went to put food in her dish the other night and discovered it was piled high with gammon slices. It’s all very well, but I’m now faced with the problem of a gastronomic feline who looks at me with utter contempt when presented with my humble offering of Go-Cat or Felix cat food.
Never mind the fact that the second we got home she wandered huffily into the conservatory and promptly threw up all over the floor.
I texted Mum to inform her that because of her giving spirit I was having to deal with something that nobody should ever have to face: cleaning up cat boke. I expected sympathy and apologies. I received neither. Her reply was instant, and said it all: