Something that happened to me recently got me thinking about how difficult it can be sometimes to explain things to non-cat people, or even just how being a cat person can take you into places you really do not want to be. Here is the story of one of the most mortifying things I have ever gone through:
I was going to my daughter's birthday party, which she was celebrating with a ski holiday, and I had to cross the whole of France by train. As I needed to set off at 6am, I got everything I was going to wear ready the previous evening and set it all out next to my suitcase in my bedroom. AS usual if I am going away, the cats senesed it and were definitely unsettled, but I cuddled them all and tried to get some sleep. In the morning I got dressed very quickly in the dark and rushed off to catch the first of three trains. I got on the train, found my reserved seat, put my jacket on the rack above and relaxed for hte first stage of the journey. A man got in and took the seat next to me.
We had been travelling about 30 minutes when I realised two things. First, that I could definitely smell cat urine, and it was worse when I moved, second, that my companion was aware of it, because he kept shuffling in his seat and casting glances at me. I sat as still as possible. Eventually he got up and moved to a seat further down the carriage, which at least allowed me to investigate. I discovered that both my jacket, which was above my head, and the scarf around my neck, had been peed on. I took off the scarf but my sweater was also affected, and I could not take that off.
It got worse. The ticket conductor came round. I could see him talking to the man who had been next to me, who was obviously explaining why he had moved from his allocated seat. When the collector came to me, he punched my ticket and then stood there and looked at me a moment, before asking if I was all right. They both obviously thought I was an elderly lady who had peed myself. I just answered that I was fine, and he looked a bit embarrassed before moving off.
When we reached the station where I had to change trains, I had time to rescue a plastic bag from my suitcase and put the jacket and scarf into it, which lessened the problem for the rest of my journey, though there was still quite a whiff from my sweater. Fortunately my sister, who was also staying in the ski resort, had a washing machine in her chalet and put everything in there that night.
The cats were definitely determined that I was not going to forget them while I was away! They know of old what a suitcase means, I should have realised they might try to mark it.
What are your stories?
I was going to my daughter's birthday party, which she was celebrating with a ski holiday, and I had to cross the whole of France by train. As I needed to set off at 6am, I got everything I was going to wear ready the previous evening and set it all out next to my suitcase in my bedroom. AS usual if I am going away, the cats senesed it and were definitely unsettled, but I cuddled them all and tried to get some sleep. In the morning I got dressed very quickly in the dark and rushed off to catch the first of three trains. I got on the train, found my reserved seat, put my jacket on the rack above and relaxed for hte first stage of the journey. A man got in and took the seat next to me.
We had been travelling about 30 minutes when I realised two things. First, that I could definitely smell cat urine, and it was worse when I moved, second, that my companion was aware of it, because he kept shuffling in his seat and casting glances at me. I sat as still as possible. Eventually he got up and moved to a seat further down the carriage, which at least allowed me to investigate. I discovered that both my jacket, which was above my head, and the scarf around my neck, had been peed on. I took off the scarf but my sweater was also affected, and I could not take that off.
It got worse. The ticket conductor came round. I could see him talking to the man who had been next to me, who was obviously explaining why he had moved from his allocated seat. When the collector came to me, he punched my ticket and then stood there and looked at me a moment, before asking if I was all right. They both obviously thought I was an elderly lady who had peed myself. I just answered that I was fine, and he looked a bit embarrassed before moving off.
When we reached the station where I had to change trains, I had time to rescue a plastic bag from my suitcase and put the jacket and scarf into it, which lessened the problem for the rest of my journey, though there was still quite a whiff from my sweater. Fortunately my sister, who was also staying in the ski resort, had a washing machine in her chalet and put everything in there that night.
The cats were definitely determined that I was not going to forget them while I was away! They know of old what a suitcase means, I should have realised they might try to mark it.
What are your stories?
