I’ve been a very bad mummy this week. I upset the girls when I was trying to apply their flea treatment, I in a hurry and they sensed something was wrong, so they got stressed. Now I’ve taken the little ones to the vet for their annual check up and vaccination. Is there no end to the torture I will inflict on these poor little creatures!
Actually, my little ones don’t mind the vets as much as the big ones, they lived there for the first three months of their lives, until an unsuspecting human came along to take them home with her. (That was me, by the way.) But fear breeds fear, and when those pet carriers come out, the warning signal goes around fast than the ‘flu’ in winter. The cats hide in places I didn’t even know they could fit into. Even getting the cat treats out doesn’t fool them, oops, I mean persuade them, into coming out. Well, it worked the first time, but they weren’t going fall for that again. I thought I knew all the hiding places, but after 12 years in the same house, I still don’t.





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