I'm incensed gentle reader. I'm outraged, offended and affronted.
By whom? I hear you ask. The lummox perhaps?
No! Not on this occasion. This time it's that Terry fellow who calls himself a vet. And I used to like the guy, I really did. He helped me over an eye infection last year and kept me looking beautiful. He knows how to get a cat into a carrier with the minimum of fuss. And, he allows me to walk all over his surgery and laptop without question. But now, he's overstepped the mark. Well overstepped it.
You see, it was time for my annual check up and flea control (and don't take that high-pawed stance with me, we all get them) and so, today, I was whisked away to the vets post haste as they wanted to check my weight as well. No problem there, I thought, no problem at all. Imagine then, to my surprise and horror, that he told Ange and the lummox that I was now classed as a 'big' cat and, get this, that I was 'well upholstered'. What is that supposed to mean? Well upholstered? He makes me sound like a piece of furniture! I tell you what, I almost felt like treating him like a piece of furniture and giving him a good clawing. The truth is, I was too shocked at the time to do anything about it.
I ask you, seriously, I ask you. Look at my photograph, and tell me that that isn't the sveltest example of feline form you've ever seen. Ok, ok, so that picture is 6 years old but so what. Nothing much has changed. I'm as petite and as lissome as I've always been. Well upholstered my pencil sharpener! The man wants striking off. Vets, pfft!
PPP x
