... that allows them to produce *huge* quantities of concentrated rocket fuel with an aroma that can be classified as an agent of biological warfare???? Dear Lord, Emma Cat *looks* so sweet. She *looks* angelic, she *is* a very good cat mother. She has a *glorious* purr that is melodious. Yet her rear end produces vast quantities of stuff that is *malodorous* in the extreme!

I was in the library tonight, spending time with Emma and the kittens. I'd given Schroedinger his feed, seen to his peeing requirements, given all a cuddle and a fussing over and Nathan had filled Emma's bowl with delicious food, which she happily tucked into. Then she had a break - a *wind* break. This was quickly followed by a visit to the litter tray, which produced something so foul and so evil, that I'm sure it is wanted by scientists to develop as a new weapon.

Nathan exited the library, coughing and spluttering, and gasping for breath, whilst trying to stop his eyes streaming from the poison in the air that was rapidly entering his body. His lack of concern for his suffocating mother, who was, by now, retching on the library floor, was less than touching to behold. Remind me never to be on a sinking ship with him... The next thing I knew, through the fog that was my rapidly disappearing vision was Nathan's hand holding a plastic bag. I thought he was giving it to me so I could stick my head in it to have blessed release from the fumes overwhelming me, but I heard a strangled cry of, "Get rid of that stuff NOW, Mum, *please*!"

I managed to hold my breath whilst I deposited said offering of Emma Cat in the bag and promptly handed it to Nathan, gasping, "Now *you* bin it!" Once the offering was gone and what was left was a lingering scent in the air, I managed to open the window to have some fresh air wafted in. I stood with my nose next to the open window and breathed *deeply*.

All the while this was going on, the kittens gambolled about the library floor, quite unperturbed by the proceedings. I want to have their immunity to the adverse effects of the smell of cat bowel movements!

To recover I sat on a chair and little Schroedinger climbed up my leg on to my lap, then climbed up the ample bosoms and stuck his head under my chin and purred. I think he felt sorry for me.

Copyright © Helen Simmons
September 9, 2000