A humorous look at bodily ills and daily woes, and tips from someone who has suffered everything from arthritis to athlete's foot.
Sunday, 7 November 2010
Poor old Flad!
It's some time now since Flad lost one of his fangs in a fight with the big black cat from five doors down. The two keep a respectful distance from one another now.
But then a newcomer arrived on the block - a young, fluffy, swaggering ginger with a sparkly collar. What happens is that they exit through the hedge at the bottom of their own gardens, walk through the farm field, then pop into whichever garden they fancy.
So there was Flad, sitting in his own territory minding his business and suddenly, down his path, this young 'un come strutting. Well, Flad may be 14 now and a trifle arthritic, but nothing's going to stop him defending his patch. I wasn't there when it happened, but I did wonder why he was lying inert on the bed for so many hours. Eventually, he hobbled slowly downstairs and hauled himself onto the sofa with his broken claws, and that's when we noticed his poor nose. Closer examination revealed cuts and scratches on his head and two of his legs, and his coat was very muddy, a sign the two of them had been rolling over in a tangle of fur.
How did I know which cat he'd been fighting? By the chunks of ginger fur caught in his claws, of course! When I got up at 7.3o this morning, he was outside, looking bright-eyed and full of beans again. Something tells me he was the winner.