Cats Are Not Just For Chemo

I'm sorry to all those who don't love kittens (dead inside), and it may seem tenuous, but I've got to tell you - in a non-recommended sort of way - that the right variety of cat time should be available on the NHS. In fact don't they do 'stroke' therapy in the US? If they're going to do it, it will be there.

Lucky for me, I have it, in the form of Elwood and Columbo, my Cornish Rex kittens. This isn't a proud mummy, pushing my babies onto anyone and everyone kind of post, I promise. I just have to tell you, I think they are happy medicine. And although I'm not saying go and buy kittens (Pat my lovely Chemo nurse, I promise that's not what I'm saying), just if you have some available to stroke, get access.
(Pat would say with gardening gloves, and I loathe to defy her superior nurse knowledge, so I include it herewith)

When I was diagnosed, she gave me the safety talk, she told me animals were a no no, I must at all odds stay AWAY FROM CAT POO, cat claws, cat scratches, cat mouths, 400 types of cat bacteria etc. Slight difficulty there was DadJokes and I had adopted two kittens the week before. The extent of my cat love is thus: If DadJokes were allergic, he would not have made it to partner status.

I did initially feel regretful, couldn't believe the timing, was afraid of the little beasts coming near me, which frankly was sadder than cancer. These cats though, must have been Buddhist chemo nurses in former lives; they were reincarnated to understand that they can only pat me, claws retracted - even when they play their favourite rabbit-gutting game (cat owners will understand), they just pat. I went about four weeks without a single scratch, that is unheard of in the kitten rearing world btw.

By the time I got the inevitable first one, I had relaxed somewhat, soaked it in boiling water for half an hour, slathered it in savlon, wrapped a BANDAGE around it, and successfully avoided sepsis.

Now I don't know what I would do without them. If you weigh up the pros and cons, avoiding poo and being careful around claws is not so bad (ever) in exchange for how much they make me laugh every day. This is more important for the sick, miserable or otherwise afflicted.

They are certifiably ridiculous though, lucky for me. From repeatedly rubbing their heads in candle soot to winking on command (I use 'command' to mean coincidence), to trying to suffocate my new niece, Jemima (ha ha!), they are the combined animal equivalent of Michael Mcintyre, in medicinal terms.

I'm posting this schmaltzy prose today because - although I don't like to focus on the tough bits - the last few days have been a bit that way. But my kittens, being Buddhist and all, have done that cat sense thing and just quietly purred and warmed various bits of my body at ALL times for three days straight. = Happy Medicine.

They're bloody annoying when it comes to blogging though...

p.s. If adorable kittens are not your thing (you may be dead inside), I recommend an alternative. The Happy Bag. Fluro orange, satchel style from Zara. Sunshine in leather form. I defy you not to feel perky when wearing this colour.

I also and of course need to thank the reasons for my cats being, breeders Shane & Mark. The ridiculousness and the patting is their fault since they brought them up that way, so if you're going to get some medicinal pets, I point you in their wondrous direction. AND they do chihuahuas (which I've never had to spell before, did I do it?)
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