Conversations with my cat

Yes! The totally unmissed series returns!

Scene: Friday evening, in the house of the black cat

El Mog: Nom.
Bagelmouse: Poor, poor kitty.
El Mog: Nomnom… sorry, did you say something?
Bagelmouse: I said poor poor my kitty.
El Mog: I should bloody think so. You abandoned me at the vets again, woman, for the second time in a week. I had to make my displeasure felt with my claws.
Bagelmouse: Yes, they mentioned that. I do wish you wouldn't attack them, you know. But that's not really why you're a poor poor kitty. Do you really have no idea what happened to you today?
El Mog: Nomnomnom… what? No, look I'm eating. They didn't even feed me in that place, I'm really fricking hungry.
Bagelmouse: They didn't feed you because they had to knock you out so they could look at your teeth. Nil by mouth and all that.
El Mog: Knock me out? I'm glad I attacked them.
Bagelmouse: Send you to sleep then.
El Mog: Send me to sleep? But I can do that all by myself.
Bagelmouse: Mmm, I think you'd wake up when they starting pulling out your teeth.
El Mog: Nomno- WTF?! Pulling out my TEETH?
Bagelmouse: You're missing five teeth. Can't you tell?
El Mog: Eh?
Bagelmouse: One of them's an incisor – you're officially now a two-fanged monster. Can you honestly not tell?
El Mog: But why? Why? Why would they do that? Why?
Bagelmouse: You have peridontal disease.
El Mog: I'm a cat, not a doctor. What the hell is that?
Bagelmouse: Read about it in your own time, it's too manky to go into on this blog.
El Mog: So I'm missing teeth.
Bagelmouse: Oh, that's the least of it.
El Mog: … What?
Bagelmouse: Uh. OK. When the vet took your teeth out, your lower jaw fell apart.
Bagelmouse: Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction. But it's been wired together so it can heal.
El Mog: [gingerly moving jaw from side to side] I can't feel anything.
Bagelmouse: It's all internal, and you are on so many painkillers and antibiotics I'm surprised you can stand. Actually, given that you're still a bit crosseyed from the anaesthetic, I'm surprised you're even capable of holding this purely anthropomorphised conversation.
El Mog: We've been through this before: anthropomorphism is your problem.
Bagelmouse: Yes, yes it is. But you feel OK though?
El Mog: Nomnomnomnom.
Bagelmouse: I'll take that as a yes. [stage whisper] When I picked Moggy up earlier, the vet gave me (well, OK, sold me) a can of convalescence food and said 'even if he only has a couple of licks, it'll do him the world of good'. He's finished off the whole can and is now polishing the bowl clean.
El Mog: You do not get this fat without dedication and practice when it comes to food.

Author's note: the cat gets better treatment for his problems than I do. Diagnosis, treatment, boom – no messing. That's private medical care for you. But on the flip side, the cost was… well, remember that my flight to Tokyo was £360, right? The bill for all his treatment in the last week came to £640. And we have to go back in three weeks to have the wire removed. So if you'll excuse me, I'm just going to make a small ritual offering to the gods of pet insurance.


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