I love a good pet story. You know the ones where a random poo or humping experience leaves the owner dying of embarrassment. A friend of mine was hosting a large family get-together at her house. I think it was like a family reunion or something super special. They had spent days getting everything ready for the event and had cleaned for hours to make the house look amazing. They even lit a couple of lovely scented candles to add to the ambience. But her cat jumped on to the coffee table and walked past a candle. His butt caught on fire and her aunt ran around smacking him, to put it out. Instead of beautiful scented candles, the house smelled like burning cat butt. It was a rather pungent odour that she could never truly forget.
Then there’s another friend’s dog called Darryl – seriously the greatest name for a dog. Darryl had a couple of legendary stories…
1) He humped a world-renowned spinal surgeon, when he was on the phone about an accident (continuing, despite the use of the Yellow Pages to try to deter him). They both returned to the room after the call finished, sweating.
2) He stole a plate full of curry. The culprit was identified by the smell.
3) He gave a Pringle back to the gift giver when he didn’t like it. Like, straight back into his hand.
4) He destroyed new shoes left out, only spotted out of the corner of the eye when being thrown in the air from behind the couch.
But the story that beats all the others is about a cat called Jack. He’s fallen head first into a kitchen rubbish bin, a toilet and the washing machine. He’s fallen off a windowsill after biting his tail, tried to jump onto a bed like it was a trampoline only to get stuck between a wall and the bed. He tried to chase the fan, jumping from the back of the couch and straight into the lamp. And he’s got his head stuck in a glass of beer, a boot and a lunchbox. Bless you, Jack. Bless you.