A blog of grumpiness, stilts and skin.

Monday, February 13, 2006

Get your rosaries off my ovaries

As I deposited sweet little Pounce de Lion into the vet's for the unkindest snip of all, the young receptionist there started hard selling the benefits of inserting a micro-chip into the nape of the poor beast's neck.

A tracking device. In the very spot where her mummy used to pick her up.

I listened, mute, for a full minute. For the first time it struck me how it must feel to be a white tobacco farmer in Zimbabwe. Cow-eyed, I turned to the assembled species in the waiting room. Then I pulled myself together, and placed my hands back on the counter.

"Is it not enough that you'd have me authorise her burgeoning womanhood to the dustbin?!" I railed at this modern-day Mengele. "Now you'd have me sign her very identity away!"

Not on my watch, Pounce!y.

7 Comments:

Blogger Onanite said...

When you cat goes missing someday, and the pound receives her, she will have about one week to life unless they can contact you. Your choice, her life.

Onanite

Monday, February 13, 2006

 
Blogger Grump Les Tiltskin said...

To quote Foghorn Leghorn:

"I say. I say. That (post) was a joke, boy!"

Monday, February 13, 2006

 
Blogger SuperFreo! said...

Who is this bloke?

Leon from 'Rosanne'?

Monday, February 13, 2006

 
Blogger hazelblackberry said...

I note he calls himself an onanite before anyone else does.

Monday, February 13, 2006

 
Blogger Grump Les Tiltskin said...

Okay, Haze. You know about all this kinky stuff. What's an 'onanite'?

If it means he's a West Coast Eagles supporter, well, that's just unforgiveable.

Monday, February 13, 2006

 
Blogger hazelblackberry said...

Yeah, it means pretty much the same thing.

Monday, February 13, 2006

 
Blogger SuperFreo! said...

Well, that's just Jim Dandy. A closet Eagles supporter in our midst.

Monday, February 13, 2006

 

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