Monday 11 June 2018


Our new kitty cat has a snot blowing problem. Yes, you read that correctly.

Anyone that knows me well knows how funny and ironic this statement is. If truth be known, which it shall be in about two seconds, I was not the person you looked at and immediately thought, pets!! Not that I haven’t had them in my life; I grew up with dogs, cats, turtles, horses, lizards, frogs, you name it. But as I aged, and realised I was a gypsy with a profound affinity for order and cleanliness (the first step is acceptance), pets just didn’t factor into things. And of course, with the years came, ahem, well, rigidity. To say I became more like my mother and looked at the running of our house like a well oiled piece of machinery, is an understatement. The woman liked order and I loved her for it (well, certainly NOT as a teenager).

Alas, then we had The King, and a certain amount of surrender was mandatory. After your first year of poo, colds, vomit and the like, you quickly realise it’s not your house anymore. As the years ticked by and we realised a second child was not on the cards, the pet discussion of course came into play. The King would vociferously chime in that a pet WAS in his future and began obsessing on names, breeds, toys, and scenarios in which his pet would make life complete – and cut down on the impending therapy bills later in life due to being a single child. The kid is brilliant at guilt laden negotiation. 

Enter Albus. A very cute Russian Blue kitty cat we brought home about six weeks ago. I of course prepared myself for all the changes to come, many of which were highlighted by my friends and husband who couldn’t wrap their heads around the idea of me, with a cat. The obvious ones I mulled over and in time digested: the litter box, what happens in the litter box, the toys, the paraphernalia strewn around the living room, the food (the smell of the food!), and the clawing at your rug, furniture… doors, and so on. And my response, the more times repeated, became steeped in confidence, “I can handle it.” And to be honest, when you look at this little grey fur ball, the rest of it fell by the way side. As it should. 

That is, until I encountered the snot. 

Now, I knew a bit about cats, but I have to admit, I barely knew they sneezed, let alone could catch colds (colds that lasted as long as a Game of Thrones sodding winter). Let’s just say, our little Albus gave us a crash course education in all things snot related. For the first few days, he walked around sneezing and we all thought, huh, that’s kind of sweet, "Achoo," a kitty sneeze. "Awww."  Then his sneezes started increasing and stuff started flying out of his nose at an alarming rate. Sticky, gooey, cement hardening snot that would attach itself to any surface it came into contact with. You’d be having a sweet little cat moment and WHAMMO, snot would spray your shirt, the walls, the windows (I secretly think his favourite thing to do is to spray the window from his perch and watch me squeal and run around searching for the Windex), and of course the King's Lego (the only time the King is NOT thrilled with Albus). It got to the point where I’d have to do a snot check round the house every morning, as you would find it literally everywhere. 

Upon educating ourselves, apparently cats not only catch colds, but cat herpes, chlamydia, and syphilis. Who knew kitties were such little harlots? As I like to look at most things in life as lessons, or opportunities for growth, I try to tell myself that this little ball of snot filled fur is teaching me to surrender and go with the snot, as they say. My deal with the King is I'm allowed to clean up after Albus's nose purges, but I have to do it with a smile that says, "Oh well, this is just part of cat life, as I prance happily around the house singing "skippety do dah, snot is the greatest!" (As admittedly I had a curse filled rant one morning as I scraped snot off the wall that did not go over well with the King). 

But, I am human after all with a lifetime love of order and I’m certainly not going to be upset when his nose finally dries up and I can put away the disinfectant wipes. 

Here’s to clear windows. 

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