Taking The Piss

Getting a urine sample from my cat is impossible.
The vet told me to shut him in a room overnight with a bowl of water and a litter tray.
At 4am he wanted out and was determined that digging the carpet at the door would be the quickest way.
He totally refused to use the tray.
As the 10am appointment time approached there was still nothing.
So I phoned the vet.
“Keep him in until midday” she said.
I told her he had never used a tray, even as a kitten he didn’t like it.
He has always gone out.
I also mentioned that I thought it a bit cruel keeping him in seeing as he has a bladder problem.
She got a little short with me.
“We need to test his sediments!”
I suggested she find another way of collecting them.
When I heard her sigh and I could almost see her eyes rolling.
I’d had enough.
“Do you know what? He’s fine. He’s happy, eating and pissing when you let him. So I think we’re done. I’ll be in later for some of the ‘special’ food. Thank you for everything”.
I hung up.
There was an instant when I did think, ‘Mmm, maybe that was a mistake’, but I got over it.
I did expect some attitude when I went in; instead I got the incomprehensible South African and a fucking Loyalty Card!

Sassy and I met for coffee and saw one of those splendid moments that seem to occur along Rue Albert.
Some bloke, so drunk he could hardly stand, harassing another.
He was almost pushed over twice but this part man, part Weeble wouldn’t go down.
They continued this down the middle of the road until they were out of sight.
Sassy said, “See? This is why I love The Rue Albert!”
I nodded, “This is why I love Pompey nutters!”
Snaggle-toothed Barista Boy chimes in with, “He ain’t Pompey, he’s French. He’s always down here and he’s always shouting in someone’s face”.
“Ahh!” we nodded.
As if his being French explained everything.
The police car screamed past us as we walked home.
Just as I thought it, Sassy said, “I bet he’s in Tesco!”
They all end up in Tesco.

This is my tune of the day.