Unhappy cat

This is the very definition of a hacked off kitteh. After the twenty gazeeellionth emergency trip to the vet on Friday (if they did a loyalty card I’d be able to get him a free appendix removal by now) it turned out the worrying (and gross) scabs on his back weren’t from being whapped by some other cat, but are actually miliary dermatitis (otherwise known as – I kid you not – scabby cat disease), which can be caused by stress (hands up who saw that one coming) or allergy to flea bites. So, as if a trip to the vet and two shots in the bum wasn’t enough to piss him off, I’ve spent the weekend disrupting the flat and spraying every corner with insecticide and dragging all my bedding down to the dry cleaners (ever tried to carry a king sized duvet with short arms? Bits escaping everywhere). So everything smells different. Even to me, and I don’t have the sensitive nose of a kitteh.

He’s been doing a lot of laying about like this. Probably plotting my demise.


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