Paging Dr. Tinycat

This morning I was woken by the sound of chundering. That’s nothing too unusual for a household containing cats, and I hauled myself out of bed to wipe the floor clean of furballs and make coffee. That plan changed fairly quickly when I found several puddles of clear liquid spew, and watched Naughty hurl up yet another puddle – this one red with blood. I threw on yesterday’s clothes, tossed a handful of biscuits on the floor for Kiki, rammed Naughty into the carrier and jumped into a cab to the vets in Mong Kok.

The vets attended to Naughty with commendable speed and she was x-rayed, squeezed, and all sinister possibilities were eliminated. Just an upset stomach, said the vet, but a nasty one. Naughts was given a jab of painkiller and antacid, and I was advised to bring her back with all speed if she threw up any more blood. Rather than take her all the way home, we spent the day in the office (not far from the vet) where Naughty dozed under my desk. No further vomit was forthcoming, and so we came home where I had a chance to inspect (and wipe up) the puddles on the floor.

Tinsel. Little fragments of purple tinsel. Now that’s mysterious, because I know that Naughty’s a moron who eats tinsel, so this place is a tinsel-free zone. All toys are inspected for tinsel before being handed over. I ransacked the apartment and – finally – found Naughty’s tinsel stash in a storage drawer under the spare bed that could only be reached by a lithe and slender cat. The colour matched that found in the spew-pools, and it was chewed. Oh ho. That’s gone in the bin.

Anyway, the good news is that Naughty is fine and is rampaging with Kiki. And I’d like to give extra credit to the vet who not only dealt with Naughty so promptly and thoroughly, but who also phoned me before she went off shift to check up on Kitty Dumbass’s status and offer advice for how to deal with further vomiting. But damn, that was an expensive little piece of tinsel.

We apologise for the break in transmission

Without going into any gory details (because, in all honesty, they’re quite dull) I’m not up to writing very much at the moment due to withdrawal symptoms. It’s not even romantically Trainspotting-esque; just jonesing for ordinary, legitimate prescription drugs that I’m not supposed to take any more. Nevertheless, my brain is utterly fried, most of the other bits of me hurt, and the bits that don’t hurt itch unscratchably. So, while I quietly lose my mind on doctors’ orders, here’s Naughty doing her best to amuse me this evening.

Naughty clowning on the bookshelf

Naughty clowning on the bookshelf

Saving Private Dusty

Like any place in the physical world the Internet has dark corners, seedy venues where the misfits hang out. One such place is 4chan‘s /b/ imageboard. Don’t go and look at it. It’s not a nice place to hang around. There are very few posting rules, and it regularly features extraordinarily deviant porn, gore, racism, and obscure sub-culture references. Yet this oddly fascinating cess-pit is full of surprises. The amazing creativity of the place, for a start: most popular and widespread Internet memes originated on /b/, including LOLcats. It is the primordial soup of the Internet, and you’d be advised not to drink it with croutons.

This weekend, the assorted anons of /b/ did something quite wonderful. A deranged coward of a teenager in the USA videoed himself abusing his cat (a smart grey boy called Dusty, with the most appalling expression of terror and woe). He posted those videos to YouTube. /b/ found them, pooled resources, identifed the culprit and located him, and then bombarded his local news channel with demands for follow-up. The news station contacted law enforcement, the abusers were arrested, and the poor cat is safe at the vets.

The alleged abuser’s alleged details are scattered around the Internet, in case you feel like taking a look. Just google “Kenny Glenn”. (Or, for now, click here – and see if you can spot my cat Naughty’s cameo appearance!)

/b/'s cat, Dusty

/b/'s cat, Dusty

Say what you like about the anarchic charnel house that is /b/, but you do not fuck with their cats. After all, these people invented Caturday.

Say hello to my little friends

Last Tuesday was a typical day. I was delivering a training course all day, and I was scheduled to go shopping with Emily after work, because there was something she wanted to show me. After the training course some colleagues and I stopped for a leisurely beer at the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club. This is a splendid place for two reasons. Firstly, it kept the “Royal” in its name. And secondly, in the bar there is a large bell with a sign underneath. The sign advises that any member may ring the bell “for their own personal reasons”, but will thence be obliged to stand a drink for everyone in the bar and anyone who arrives within three minutes of the last peal dying away. I just love that.

After the beer Emily took me to Delay No Mall, and led me through various racks of clothes, into a vets, and up to a large perspex box. In the box were two almost fully-grown kittens. They were a 50/50 mixture of tabby and white and very slender and oriental.

“They’re your birthday present,” Emily told me. “Well, not yet because I know it’s a bad idea to gift animals, but if you want them, they’re yours.”

I extracted one of the kittens.

“She’s called Naughty,” said the receptionist, who had recognised Emily and come over to help.

“Why?” I asked, but got no further with that line of questioning because of a kitten unexpectedly chewing my nose. “Oh, yes, I see.”

Naughty had a sister, Kiki, who was far more sensible and diffident.

“So, do you want them?”, asked Emily.


Papers were signed. Last Saturday I ventured down to Causeway Bay to collect them, and rode a taxi back to Tung Chung with a wailing, lamenting carrier.

They’re installed and rampaging around my flat now. I’m going to try not to turn this into Just Another Cat Blog, because the Internet is full of those already, but since I’m rather enamoured with the pair of them (despite their urgently needing new names) I thought I’d share a few pictures.

This is Kiki (click for full-size):


This is Naughty:


And here they are being bloody awful as a team:


This evening I am attempting to wear them to a frazzle with their Cat Dancer toy, in the hope that I might be allowed some sleep without their nightly wildebeest stampede. Some hope.