I am officially the worst human staff member. Ever. According to the chuffin cat.
I can’t really argue. She has a point.
Today is her 6th birthday. Yes, 6th! And I committed the worst faux pas possible. You see, it’s that time of year that Gloria dreads. Me too. Plus the vet. Probably the entire vet’s practice too.
*whispers* vaccination time
So I rang up to make the appointment, wrote it on the calendar, and never thought any more about it. In the current pandemic, I figured the vet would be well enough equipped with PPE and riot gear to successfully tackle this annual fiasco. Turns out I’d written the appointment on the wrong week, so for some reason I thought it was on the 17th. Had I noticed this earlier, I could have salvaged the situation and rebooked for a different day. But no, I didn’t realise until the night before. To be fair, we are now on day 9,743 of lockdown… or something like that. I really have no idea of even what day it is. Not sure anybody else knows either. Apart from the chuffin cat. She has counted each and every day meticulously on her tufty paws, doing a daily roll call to check all human staff members are in place to fulfil her every need. Her lowly staff members on the other hand have stumbled and eaten their way through lockdown, like a perpetual Christmas break without presents. Or visitors. Or turkey. Anyway, I digress.
I only realised yesterday that I had committed the mortal sin of booking the appointment for Gloria’s annual vaccinations on her actual birthday *gulp* I felt truly awful (but not bad enough to cancel it, clearly!). To make matters worse, I couldn’t go into the surgery with her due to the Covid guidelines. So in Gloria’s eyes, there she was merrily dreaming about all the fun she was going to have on her birthday, when she was scooped up and unceremoniously stuffed into her far-too-small carrier. To top it all, after being thrown around in the car whilst her Chief Human Staff Member tunelessly serenaded her, she was then kidnapped – yes, kidnapped! – by a lady in a white coat… who proceeded to maul her, shoved a thermometer up her rear end (the cat’s rear end, not the vet’s in case you were wondering), and stuck a needle in her neck (cat’s not vet’s again, just to clarify)… all while her Chief Human Staff Member sat motionless back in the car without a care in the world. How very rude!! Unforgivable, in Gloria’s eyes.
So in an effort to repair our ruler:slave relationship, Gloria felt it only right that I compose an ode to her, to commemorate her 6th birthday. Here goes *ahem* *cough* (non-Covid cough that is)
*clears throat in a healthy way*
Happy Birthday to my cat.
Your poofy fur makes you look fat.
Your temper’s short, your legs look stumpy,
when woken up you can be grumpy.
Your teeth are sharp, you’re seldom calm,
your breath smells like a sewage farm.
I really love your tufty paws –
a shame they’re hiding sharpened claws.
Your fluffy trousers are quite lush.
Your tail is like a big bog brush.
Your attitude is a disgrace
but we all love you, fluffy face.
What?? Oh apparently that’s not at all what she meant.
Happy Birthday, Gloria Chufflepuff Braveheart, with heartfelt apologies from your Chief Human Staff Member and the kidnapper in the white coat