Yesterday began fairly unremarkably. Did a little writing, did a little kid-wrangling, did a little washing and did a little staring out the window, thinking. Allens let me know that Two Point 5 Kids had won their promotion!

I passed the couch at least a dozen times during the morning and patted Chuy the Cat each time. After a while, it dawned on me that he had not moved for hours and his breakfast remained untouched.

This was not like him. Not one bit.

I gently picked him up and placed him on the ground.


He could not put his front paw down. I felt around for a bit and it was obviously very painful and so I did what I do when faced with an unusual situation.

I over-reacted.

My cat had obviously been whacked by a car. I needed to get him to the vet. Because we are new to the area, I left it up to the Google Gods, who pointed me in the direction of a small practice not far from home.

I called. A handsome voice picked up and I told him my cat had been hit by a car, and he directed me to bring Chuy straight in. Which I did.

The surgery was small and Chuy, at this point was whining like a maniac. The door swung open and the most handsomest vet rushed over. I followed him into the examination room, noting the lack of wedding ring on his finger and going through my cerebral rolodex of single friends.

A hot single vet is a rare thing.

I let Chuy out of the carrier and the hot vet exclaims..

“Oh Muffin! Look at you, you handsome boy….”

Which did nothing for my swooning… nothing at all…….

Hot Vet immediately started sniffing Chuy all over, which was peculiar to say the least and left me wondering whether I should have given Chuy a squirt of Issey Miyake in the car.

I could not help myself as I leant down and took a whiff.

As I suspected, fur smell.

“Why are you smelling the cat?” I enquired.

“To see whether a possum has got to him…..” He said. “They tend to piss on cats….”

You DO learn something new everyday! 

Hot Vet proceeded to go over Chuy with a fine tooth comb, stuck a thermometer of his butt, shone lights in his eyes, gave him a massage and checked his paws.

He assured me that Chuy had not been hit by a car. He told me the first thing to check if you suspect this might have happened is the claws. Because just before a cat gets whacked by a car, they try to grip the bitumen like crazy and the claws are always “shattered.”

Hot Vet continued to heap praise on the handsomeness and personality of my cat, and I was so proud, like I had actually birthed him myself.

He concluded by saying that it was most likely that Chuy had gotten into a heated discussion with a neighbourhood cat, which ended in assault. He gave Chuy two injections to stave off any infection and to ease the tenderness.

I apologised for my dramatic phone call and for my over-reaction. Hot Vet gave Chuy one more cuddle, and mooshed his face a bit, telling me that it was no problem whatsoever, and he hoped it was a long time before we met again.

Which would be nice, but a shame as well.

When was the last time you over-reacted?
Or are you as cool as a cucumber in times of distress?