Another from the roasting tray.
I killed the missus' cat.
For clangers this 1's a 2fer & only one of them mine.
A little background - the missus and I had 4 cats, Blush the eldest (& as it turned out deafest) who even preceeded me, Molly - the flufftiest of the bunch, Jonesy, my fat,greedy white bastard & Clovis - the baby (whom I was conned into keeping). My missus & I had noted Blushes increased lack of hearing but thought little of it due to his age - 16-17.
'Twas a few years back. One Sat. arvo I was about to nip out to the shops to acquire stuff for the fambily evening meal. As I backed my old Landcruiser out of the carport (strangely not letting it idle after starting as I usually do - fuck me I've turned into my grandad!) I heard the most awful gurggly scream. I stopped the car.
Unfortunately right on top of Blush. I yelled for the missus and jumped back into the car to get the wheels off the poor moggy. She came out & screamed then ran back inside. He dragged his mangled body off into the backyard. I got her to get me some towels and the catbox. I eventually caught him, gingerly wrapped him and then proceeded to not drive at a leisurely pace to the local vets.
I walked into the vets and stated as calmly as I could that "This is an emergency, I've just run over my cat".
The young, bored-looking, gothy, receptionist girl gets me to fill out the paperwork, yadayada. Blush mewling loudly and painfully all the while.
She then tells the bloke waiting with his puppy to get it's shots that he can go thru. He turns to me & says that I can go in his place as my case is an emergency. I thanked him profusely. She stops me, insists that he goes in and says -
"Booked appointments take precedence over walk-ins."
I tried to explain that it was an emergency, my cat was dying, most walk-ins would be emergencies and even the concept of triage. Nada.
Eventually I saw the vet - I asked them to relieve his pain but I didn't want to make the call so I went to get the missus (the 1 thing I really regret - I hope they managed to knock him out enough that he was high as a kite and not in pain). The missus and I held him as they put him to sleep - it was very plainly apparent that there wasn't much anyone could do.
As we walked out with the vet trying to console us, the tactful receptionist asked my loudly wailing missus
- "& how will you be paying for that today?" I should point out that I was definitely the calmer of the two of us.
I honestly think it was the fact that my missus was so distraught that saved little gothy girl.
Later that week I went to square up. I was chatting to whom I guess was the regular receptionist as I paid and I mentioned the young lady and her complete lack of tact. I even went as far as to suggest that there must be some nepotism involved as I couldn't see that girl getting a service based position anytime soon.
The vet then stuck her head around the corner and informed me that she felt that her daughter was a model employee.
Length apologies? How about the 10 min. I had to sit there with my cat dying slowly in great pain because I hadn't booked an appt. in a nearly empty vet surgery on a Saturday afternoon.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Sat 2 Feb 2013, 0:39, 1 reply)

That's rough.
I feel for you fella, no joke. I would have probably spat at the little bitch.
(Thor McLegend FUCK SHITPANTS PAC MAN, Sat 2 Feb 2013, 13:00, closed)