A couple of days ago I tried to inject some culture into an otherwise fairly unimpressive blog with some Elizabethan prose. It was my intention to move discreetly away from the usual smut and edge my readers towards an altogether more refined experience. Unfortunately there’s a reason I’m unable to do this…the cat.

    After yesterdays episode with the wallpaper I’ thought I was safe for a few days but the cat had other ideas.

    Every morning the first thing I do after waking up is to stagger bleary eyed downstairs to the kitchen where I get breakfast. I rarely get properly dressed and just throw on a pair of jogging pants or sling a bathrobe around my shoulders. From now on I’m getting properly attired and, more importantly, wearing shoes.

    Still half asleep I shuffled towards the fridge and rather than remaining upright, found myself skidding across the floor like a duck trying to land on a frozen pond. I landed with an almighty crash on my backside and if wasn’t for the fact I was flapping my arms around in a hopeless attempt to retain some kind of balance, my injuries could have been a lot worse than some bruised buttocks.

    Was the reason for my accident a loose tile or spilled puddle of milk? Of course not, it was something far more obvious.

    Cat shit.

    I might have got away with staying upright if it was just a single turd, but the beast had skilfully dropped another one in the exact spot where my foot slid to after treading in the first.

    What did it do, use a protractor and slide rule?

    They couldn’t have been better placed better if NASA had used the same computer they employ for satellite launches.

    The animal had only been in the house for about twenty minutes so must have deliberately waited until it got back in to take a dump. It was outside for two hours doing various cat things so had no valid reason whatsoever not to crap in the garden. I also noted while lying on my back on the kitchen floor that I was on the same eye level as it’s food bowl and that was still full.

     I could only assume the cat had eaten something unmentionable outdoors because although cat food smells repulsive at the best of times it was nothing in comparison to what was squelching between my toes. The cat was nowhere to be seen when I got to my feet and surveyed the damage. A long wheel spin of poo trailed across the floor with the remainder on both me and my bath robe.

    It took ages to clean up, as everything had to be done twice. I got to the washing machine and threw my single item of clothing into it but there was still the problem that whenever I moved I was spreading it further around. Now naked, I finally finish cleaning the kitchen and go back upstairs to the bathroom where I use an entire bottle of shower gel. However, when climbing the stairs I’ve also left a trail of shit like Hansel and Gretel on the carpet.

    Another hour is spent cleaning this.

    Earlier in this diary I threatened to put a bonding agent in the cat’s food. After today’s episode I’m going to sprinkle some detergent in there as well.

    Whist on the subject of shit I should confess to you all that I once again came nowhere in the afternoon and evening freerolls. I missed the first one due to my crap cleaning duties around the house. The midnight tournament is still to come so if I can remove the repugnant images of cat crap from my head and focus on the cards I might be ok.

    Even though I’m not keen on the digestive system of the cat I have come up with a practical idea. If I feed it on a diet consisting only of dried peas and grab hold of when it needs to go to the toilet, I can turn it around, lift it’s tail and machine gun pigeons in the back garden.

Starting bank:  $0.