As it's Friday I thought I might as well try and brighten the day up with a little story about something that happened to me one night a few years ago.
It was late at night, the whole house was in darkness. We were all fast asleep. Then a scratching noise in the boys bedroom started.
Scrat, scrat, scrat. Scrat, scrat, scrat.
With an elbow to the ribs Torz woke me from my slumber. 'What's that noise?'.
Straight away I knew what it was. It was Eddie. Our cat. He must be trapped in the bedroom and he's scratching the carpet up. So I knew I had to get up. I tip toed out into the hallway in my birthday suit and opened the door to the boys bedroom. Desperately trying not to wake the kids I set about trying to find Eddie while fumbling around in the pitch dark. He didn't like being picked up, but I dragged him out from under the bed and tried to avoid his scratching as you can imagine being naked and carrying a pissed off cat is a recipe for eye watering pain. So I spun round and headed for the door, and as I did so placed my foot down in what can only be described as like putting my foot in a giant cat poo, because that's what it was. I dropped Eddie instantly and lifted my foot up so quickly that what was still stuck to my foot flung up and hit the door and wall. As if that wasn't bad enough I couldn't put my foot down now, but then I got excruciating cramp in my right calf muscle. So almost in tears I'm whisper shouting 'I've got cramp!!' 'I've got cramp!!'. I'm not sure how long I stood there but all I could here from our bedroom was the giggling and snorting coming from a woman who is supposed to love me, but as the cramp died off I hopped into the bathroom to get my foot cleaned. All through this and the cleaning of the rest of it, the boys never even stirred.
If there is a moral to this story, I suppose you could say, don't trap your cat in a bedroom overnight, or don't own a cat.
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