The Thing Is with Steve Canavan

It was a cat-astrophe'¨... all over the kitchen
A cat carefully uses its litter tray. Sadly Percy was not so lucky with his businessA cat carefully uses its litter tray. Sadly Percy was not so lucky with his business
A cat carefully uses its litter tray. Sadly Percy was not so lucky with his business

Percy - who as regular readers will know is my son (or cat, if you want to be picky about it) - seemed a bit different at the weekend.

He was affectionate, allowing us to stroke him without striking out his sharp claws and causing a seven-inch open wound to our forearms. He also refused to go outside and, weirdest of all, he stopped eating.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

The latter is particularly odd, for normally he patrols his bowl like a soldier on sentry duty, spending around eight hours a day sat by the side of it, emitting a strange howling noise until we put some kind of tasty morsel in it.

But on Sunday he showed no interest. Even when we opened a can of tuna - John West No Drain in Vegetable Oil, his favourite - he didn’t react, just slumped in the corner of the room looking miserable and licking his nether regions (though I’d be miserable too if I had to lick my nether regions as part of my daily cleaning routine).

Mrs Canavan suggested we take him to the vet, but alarmed by the idea of a weekend vet appointment - specifically the cost - I told her not to panic and added in what I hoped were reassuring and world-wisely tones, ‘don’t fret, he’ll be fine this time tomorrow’.

I regretted that comment about the same time the following day when Mrs C phoned as I was driving home after a long, hard day at work and began the conversation with, ‘Percy has had the most terribly violent diarrhoea - can you rush home and clean it up?’

“Why, where are you?” I enquired.

‘I’m in the kitchen looking at it,’ she replied.

“Well why can’t you clean it up then?” I said.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

‘Me?’ she spluttered, with so much amazement and surprise it was as if I’d told her she’d been selected to play centre forward for Bolton Wanderers in their weekend clash against Doncaster. ‘Of course I can’t,’ she spat, ‘I’m pregnant.’

Just as I was about to launch into a tirade about how carrying a baby didn’t prevent her from cleaning up when the cat’s bowels explode, she explained that pregnant women exposed to a moggy’s faeces are at risk of catching something called Toxoplasmosis, which can, she added triumphantly – in a tone which said ‘try arguing with this sunshine’ - ‘cause defects to the unborn child in the womb.’

“Ah,” I said, any hope of a sneaky pint in a warm and homely hostelry on the way home rapidly fading, “I’ll be back soon.”

One thing I will say about Mrs Canavan is that she doesn’t exaggerate, for, if anything, her description of Percy having had ‘terribly violent diarrhoea’ was understated.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

Not since I was on holiday and popped into a public toilet in a dubious area of Peru have I seen such a sight.

Percy had liberally sprayed at least three-quarters of the kitchen floor with the contents of his intestines. In fact, just about the only place he hadn’t covered with his own excrement, I noted with some bitterness, was his litter tray. That was absolutely fine, untouched, the fresh litter glistening, while all around was a scene of carnage.

Chunnering loudly, I donned a pair of Marigolds and spent the next 25 minutes scrubbing at the floor with super-strength disinfectant spray and 37 sheets of extra-durable kitchen roll.

‘Everything all right in there?’ shouted Mrs Canavan, laying on the lounge settee with a glass of fresh orange, reading Hello magazine.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

“Yes,” I replied, ever-so-slightly tersely, “you stay right there darling, don’t overdo it, I’m fine sorting this on my own.”

‘Ok,’ she shouted back and switched on Pointless. ‘Make sure you don’t miss any.’

Resisting the urge to take off one of my diarrhoea-stained Marigolds and drop it on her face, I finished cleaning.

But here’s the thing. Percy still looked miserable, so Mrs Canavan - ignoring my protestation that ‘he’ll be fine in the morning’ - took him to the vet and it’s a good job she did. The vet diagnosed him as having a fractured tail, which is odd because I’m sure when he naughtily jumped on the kitchen surface I only lightly tapped him with the rolling pin.

Note to RSPCA, that was a joke.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

The vet reckoned he had been attacked by another cat or possibly a fox and gave him painkillers and anti-biotics.

A few days on, he’s eating again and back to his normal self. The kitchen floor, however, may never be the same again.

Snake rattle and lots of toilet roll

Did you see the story about the American boy who found a rattlesnake in his toilet?

The lad, aged four, tried to flush it away, then shouted to his mum there was a big snake in the loo that kept coming back up.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

His mother - presumably wandering bleary-eyed into the bathroom, halfway through saying ‘Now stop making things up William …. good god run for your life boy’ - fetched a garden shovel and killed it, which led to mild outcry from a wildlife group but in my eyes was generous – I’d have filled the toilet with petrol and thrown a match in, just to be sure.

Rattlesnakes, lest we forget, are one of the deadliest snakes in the world. If I went rooting around for one under a stone in the Rocky Mountains I’d expect him to bite and kill me. By the same token, if he ventured into my bathroom I think it’s only fair he gets the same treatment.

The thing that made the rattlesnake story really terrifying is that the homeowner called a local snake expert, who asked – after arriving at the house in Texas – if he could check the basement.

He had a hunch there might be more (apparently rattlesnakes, much like teenagers at bus-stops on a Friday night swigging cider, often hang around together), and he was right – in the corner, under a metal sheet, he found 24 Western Diamondbacks. Apparently they had been there for ‘anything up to six months’.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

Interviewed about it, the man who owns the house said – and this quote is genuine – ‘I suppose it’s a little scary thinking that we’ve been living with one of the world’s most venomous snakes for the last few months, but these things happen’.

‘These things happen’. Good lord, that man is one cool customer.

It is yet another reason why I am glad I live where I do. It may be boring in the UK but at least our toilets are reptile-free.