My friends, Gooby and Goobarella, have a broken cat. I’m not saying that as a sort of value judgement, it really is a bit wrong. I think they got it at Animal Seconds World. (Today only, bent dogs and straight camels. Buy nine, get the tenth one free!) The little thing was supposed to be called Ziggy, but it never really stuck quite as much as Mong.
It has a delightful… no wait. It has a hilarious combination of fearlessness mixed with lack of coordination. It can fall off a flight of stairs while sitting perfectly still. Its rear-wheel-drive mechanism is a bit buggered and when it takes off, the tail-end comes out and around in a different alignment to the front-end. It’s like the diff’s gone. The tail is all crumpled up in a ball, like a nose-to-tail accident where the chassis wasn't straightened properly. It has no interest in food.
It’s actually a very sweet thing and Emergency Contact and I are cat-sitting for a few days. This is where one of its quirks is not going to be so charming. It can’t withdraw its claws. They’re not sharp and there isn’t much damage done, but, we have hardwood floors. If you are a cat owner, you will probably be dimly aware of the nocturnal activities of your felines. A bump here, a mew there. Well, little spazzimodo doesn’t leave anything to the imagination. Permanently extended claws on wood. It’s like trying to sleep while a liquored-up Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers practice a complicated routine.
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