I don’t know if I’ve mentioned here, but Mr Stripey Pants has been wearing contact lenses for a couple of months now. It’s a long story, totaling more than £1200 so far.
But it involves, we suspect, nightly encounters with the ginger now known as ASBO (for non-UK peeps, that’s someone with an anti-social behaviour order…curfew/criminal record thingy).
Also, I was getting fabulous new works of kitty opera composed at 3am on the theme of Mexicat Standoffs.
So, we decided to improve their hardware, and have got one of those snazzy new catflaps that scans them on the way in. Only recognised chips allowed in. You set it to learn mode and it remembers the next chip that goes through it. Apparently, and I quote the instruction manual, ‘No amount of waving your cat at the flap will work.’ They have to pass through it.
But then, Mojo wasn’t scanning. Turns out, after about 10 years of assuming he came chipped, that he really didn’t! So, we took the first strapachiptomy appointment we could get, but unfortunately, that was at least four inward attempts too late and Mojo now thinks the new catflap has it in for him.
So I’ve spent the last 10 minutes on my knees, whistling out the cat flap in an attempt to get him to come round from the back door and realise that it’s not purrsonal.
I leave you with this vaguely prophetic image that Mojo and I made last year…..