My Pussy

C'mon dahlinks, I think you know me well enough by now to realise there are not going to be close-up shots of intimate parts of my body here (wink). This is a sad salutary tale, with lots of Victorian morals in it and hopefully there will be a happy ending, although we are not there yet. 

This is my little pussy. Actually of course, she is the family kitty cat, LOL. 

Piglet had been asking if she could have a pet.  She's an only piglet and 9 now, this seemed like a good age for her to have a fellow creature she could help take care of. I used to have tropical fish. I really loved them but I realise they are not that good company. (Mine did used to kiss me if I trailed my fingers on the water during feeding time, mind.) 

I would have liked to get a dog, only I'm not sure if I will carry on being at home most days and I am quite sure it will not be possible to train the Baron to pick up the dog poos when out walking. Piglet vacillated between rabbit, guinea pig and hamster - well, we all know who would have to clean out their stinky little hutch/cage. Besides, some of these are at risk from fox attack and none of them are very long-lived. 

I decided on a cat. I wanted to avoid a kitten, as I thought they would be Trouble with a capital wee and poo. I had heard that cat shelters are often stuck with unmarried mother cats; they can move the cute kittens along but the mothers hang sadly around. Being unmarried myself I thought I should help another Fallen Woman. Ever since I was a kitten, I have loved this salutary poem by Thomas Gray, subtly warning us gurrls about the lure of false promises in allegorical form (wink): Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat, Drowned in a Tub of Goldfish and I was reminded of it when thinking about taking in a Fallen Kitty Cat. It was all very noble and Victorian and prurient <snerk>. 

While I was comparison shopping for cat bowls in a desultory way, the Swiss Army wife (my MLF friend who is so good at camping), heard of a young female cat about to be put down by lazy owners who couldn't be bothered to rehouse it properly.

Along came Lakhi (pronounced 'Lucky'). We rechristened her cuz she was called something unbelievably boring. Piglet suggested 'Lucky' and in an unfortunate fit of inspiration, I altered the spelling to the name of the naughty youngest sister in Gurinder Chadar's delightful Bride and Prejudice. I would live to regret it!  :rolleyes:  

"Do I look fat in this pregnancy?"

Yes, yes, here is Lakhi now. Ha ha ha, it is all very funny :rolleyes:, cuz I am an expert on Sex and Relationships Education and I spend my time on the writers' board admonishing people to write safe sex. I am the writer who put a condom on a werewolf. ("Depraved filth" one Amazon reviewer ranted about my story. Thank you, thank you, the downloads have never stopped pouring off the internet since, LOL. Nobody has ever complained that the condom was silly, though, which I am pretty proud of.) 

In my defence, I did receive Lakhi via a long chain of reputable professional people. I asked if she had been spayed and was assured - in txt spk, that she had been wormed, immunised and spayed. In fact so astute was the former owner of Lakhi at lying that she came with the instructions 'she has been immunised, you should take her for a booster in about a month'. So of course I thought we would wait till then and register her with the vet's while getting her boosted.  

But, but, but. Meanwhile, the little slag started behaving in a manner no spayed cat ought to behave! She lay writhing on the floor chirruping to us. She stuck her bottom in our faces. And one fatal day - when I had to go out all day to teach - she managed to get out the house and disappeared on a two day bender. Piglet and I wept and went round the lanes shaking her bowl and calling: "Lakhi! Chicken!" (not that I buy chicken and cook it specially for her, of course :rolleyes:).  Then just as I was about to print off expensive posters at the library and stick them all over lampposts in the area in case some passing dog recognised her, she shot in the back door - all skinny malink, shagged out and having lost her pink diamante collar. (That collar came with her - honest.) 

I took her to the vet straightaway! and even he said she was not behaving like a spayed cat, and she didn't even stick her bottom in his face. (Perhaps we should be flattered.) He said he couldn't be sure as yet, we should wait a while and so we did ... and here we are. 

Too late I have realised that when you get a kitty cat, you better ask for a certificate showing she has been immunised and documentation from the vets who operated, assuring you that if there are any signs of bulges, you will be able to sue the white coat off them. You should not go, "OMG! she is so cute! What a lovely kitty cat, and I am gonna believe every word you say cuz I cannot believe a MILF would lie to another MILF, particularly since that MILF is only asking about the spaying in a general way. I would be perfectly willing to pay for a cat to be spayed if I were told it had not been done." Cuz somewhere along the line, some woman who does not deserve the title MILF, will lie through her laser whitened teeth in order to make sure you take her little slut of a feline off her hands.  

After some MILFy agonising (cuz I had Piglet very late in life, my dears, and I have to say that the whinging little sod lights up my days), I gritted my teeth and determined to have the whole thing dealt with. I reasoned that I am a busy woman and that becoming grandmother to a lot of kitty cats was not pencilled in to my diary this year. My pals on the rough tough erotica writers' board were useless as they just started begging for piccies of the kitties and saying, Oh, cute little kittens! oh they will be so cute. A couple of the Dirty Old Men surreptitiously emailed me saying, "Get it sorted! you don't need the bother," but I could tell that if I did the dread deed, they would go La la la, I never said a word, while the little woman here picked up all the flack for being a hard-hearted bitch :rolleyes:. Luckily some of my Facebook gay guy pals pitched in and posted even more horrid ways of getting rid of kittens than getting the vet to operate (surreptitiously cruising each other while doing so), so I hardened my heart. 

But, but, but, when I phoned the vet's they sucked their teeth! and said, "Oooh, it will be a risky operation," and I couldn't bear to risk little Lakhi (sob sob). 

So here I am now, going round the house hurriedly trying to identify suitable spots for the maternity suite. (No! not under my bed. It will be very annoying for me and besides, that is where I store my ballgowns. You cannot be having kittens on my ballgowns, Miss Thing.) 

We went yesterday to the vet's for a checkover. They say that Lakhi is very healthy and will pop the little bastards in about two weeks time. And here is an expensive worm tablet for her and do call us in if there are any problems, it will be very expensive but you would not want to risk your unusually small kitty cat if it really was that very large white tomcat who seduced the innocent darling and it is his kittens who are making that unusually big bulge in her tummy. 

To be continued ...