Flossy the Hellcat or let’s call her Hob’s cat – one feline with more bite than a scotch bonnet. She survived the vet, and so did we. However, the vet failed to clean the cat’s ears – leaving that particular suicide mission to yours truly. She does not like it. I get my mother to hold her by the scruff while I clean out her dirty ears and put antibiotic drops in followed by an ear massage. You can imagine I am sure, her wrath… We begin the process by opening a tin of tuna and allowing her to smell it before her ear torture begins. I’m hoping she will come to associate ear cleaning with tuna eating. Sort of Pavlov’s dog, or in this case, Hob’s cat. And Hob’s cat is currently hiding, in disgust, under the sofa.
And in case you are wondering if this is all I have going this Valentine’s, you’d be wrong. I woke up to a Valentine’s card from the object of my desire this morning (see, I’m not a sad old cat lady, honest!) and a date to look forward to later 🙂
Happy Valentine’s Day from me, him and Hob’s cat.