Baron Biscuits reminds me
This happened a couple of weeks ago.

My morning routing generally involves turfing out the cat at breakfast time. Ostensibly, this is to provide him with at least some kind of exercise, patrolling the alley. In practice, it means that he goes for a short wander, and then perches on the window-ledge of the dining room crying to be let in.

So, there I was one Sunday morning, enjoying breakfast with Ms Housemate, when he popped up onto the ledge and sat down. A startled look passed over his face. He jumped back down into the yard.

Then he jumped up onto the wall, and ran along that a bit, before changing direction and running somewhere else. He was getting more and more frantic.

I opened the back door to let him in. He charged upstairs more quickly than is strictly plausibe, turned round, and ran back down again, into the living room. Once there, he attempted to hide behind the sofa from something, but, discovering that that offered no asylum, fled from there. With every second, he looked more panicked.

I eventually managed to grab hold of the by-now terrified and traumatised animal. The cause of his distress? A Klingon. He obviously thought that something was holding his arse and wouldn't let go. Forming a makeshift glove from looroll, I prised the impressivly solid lump of faeces from the fur around his backside. He whined a bit as it pulled his hair a bit... but was suddenly much calmer.

I shall edit this story to include an hilarious punchline as soon as I think of one.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 13:10, 2 replies)

surely
nothing could be funnier than the idea of a cat scared of his own arsehole. Makes me want a kitten of my own.
(Bazongaloid, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 16:00, closed)

You should wax your cat's arse.
(tiger blood and Adonis DNA, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 17:10, closed)