No Effs Given

My Dear Fellow,

Today the boys went to the vet to have their blood taken. This is to prove that they are not rabid little MONSTERS who will spread death and disease through NZ.

Taking them both together was an operation in itself which required stealth and cunning. However, the element of surprise was achieved and 5 minutes later we had two shouty little cats heading over the road in Stockbridge.

The vet and her assistant took them both into the back room and we heard ZZZZZZZT! as Punky was shaved.

"Is it safe?" I couldn't resist saying.

But my smirk didn't last long. The vet and her assistant came out looking somewhat the worse for wear. "We've had one success, but Jasper will not co-operate," they said.

He can wriggle, considering he's overweight with a bad hip. I once had to hold him while a vet tried to listen to his heart. It was like trying to grip a 10 pound salmon. Who was also a limbo champion. 

So I was partially sympathetic. But also not. Both the vet and her assistant looked like they could do to eat a few pies. Why accept the job if they weren't equipped for it?

So now Fatty Bumsticks has to go to Portie during the week and be sedated. Er Indoors has stepped up to the role, but she is not happy about it. The boys meanwhile are extremely happy, back home and safe. 

Punky is curled up on the bed, having had Special Brave Boy Treat Tuna. Jasper scoffed it up too. He didn't deserve it, but he DGAF as the young people say.

El P.