Well, our birthday treat for Grendel has resulted in a nasty dose of the Norris McWhirters. This was a piece of supposedly ‘fresh’ fish, poached in nothing but water (no Cajun spices, lime and coriander marinade, or béchamel sauce) so how come it’s reacted with Little Miss’s stomach like a mutton vindaloo?
Actually beginning to get a little worried about her. We’re supposed to worm her, just in case she’s got visitors inside and they’re the ones making her squirty, but she’s just refusing to eat the damn wormer. “Sprinkle the required number of sachets on to about 1/3 of your cat’s usual food ration and mix…” it says on the packet. We sprinkled, we mixed, and ended up with something that looks like it came out of Bishop when the alien queen tore him in half – all white, milky and utterly revolting. And we weren’t the only ones who thought so; Grendel refuses to touch the foul stuff. You’d have though they’d make worming powder taste of cheese, or beef, or fish, wouldn’t you? Something a cat would actually enjoy eating? Nope, let’s make it turn cat food into a foul milky sludge. Makes you proud.
All of which leads us to a vomiting cat at twenty past six this morning as she tries to clean herself up after her latest litter-box mishap. Not exactly the best of starts to a tenth wedding anniversary, is it? Poor wee thing.