29 November 2007

Floyd is still not happy :(

What happened was:

I was painting the hallway (or rather, doing the gloss work prior to re-carpetting it all) and was on the hallway inner door. I'd done one side the night before apart from a small patch I used to prop it open, so had covered that bit and was halfway down the inside when Floyd came padding in. With a rat. A dead one, thankfully.

I was holding the door open with my left hand and painting with my right so was unable to offer much in regards to congratulations beyond "I hope that fucking thing is dead" (the repeated sagas of the live rats has been on here before.) Floyd dropped the rat and performed his usual 'Ta-DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Love me! Look at me! I'm Great! What a hunter I am! Look at me! A Gift! A Gift for you! LOVE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!' which consists of mee-ows, purrs, plaintive wailing and a little dance which makes him look like he's got worms.

"Yeah, great fatboy, that better be dead."

I continued painting. Floyd wailed some more, but with rubber gloves on and splattered in paint I wasn't going to stroke him so we chatted for a bit. Chatting to Floyd is like having a girlfriend, in that you go "yes Floyd" a lot and ignore him while he chunters away in the corner. I carried on painting. Floyd got bored, and not having a live rat to play with started flicking about with the dead one. After 5 minutes I turned round to see the tail of it slowly sinking into my tin of paint, like a cowboy caught in quicksand, with Floyd about to go for it with mouth open. I lunged at the tin of paint and shouted at him. He panicked and made for the shrinking gap of the closing door. He lost and managed his three stripes in that photo, before bounding for freedom and going outside.

I stripped off my rather clinical gloves and fished out the rat, then went outside to dispose of it. Floyd was rolling about in the street screaming pitiously as if he'd been hit by a sniper and was going for best supporting actor. I finally cornered him in a neighbours garden and dragged him inside despite him now being smeared in a combination of paint and dirt. I deposited the now incredibly pissed off cat in the shower cubicle and went and got some cloths and some big gloves. The next ten minutes were painful, despite having welders gloves on I still have the scars. Despite to say, cats really, REALLY don't like showers :(

He forgave me eventually but little of the paint was removed and he must have ingested a mouthful at least. I'm still a bit concerned about him :-S

I think it might drive him insane.

Would I notice?

On the plus side, I have a very shiny rat stuck to the bottom of my wheelie bin.


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