Saturday, 8 December 2007

Naughty but Nice...

Another meme crosses my path, this time from Karen

Here are the rules:
1. Describe your earliest memory where this memory is clear, where clear means you can depict at least 3 details.
2. Give an estimate of how old you were at this age.
3. Tag 5 other bloggers with this meme.

My earliest, vivid memory revolves around a day off play school when I was about 3-4 years old due to being sick. I seemed to suffer with tonsilitis on a permanent basis as a youngster, and only got better once the rotten things were removed when I was 14.

This particular day, I was well on the road to recovery and thus, exceptionally bored. Play school was boring, too, but at least they served really nice blackcurrant juice there which my mother refused to purchase. I had retired to my bedroom upstairs armed with my dolls and simply couldn't be fagged making Tiny Tears wee so I could change her nappy again. As my brother had also shaved her head and drawn tattoos on her backside, it was difficult to feel much love for her any more - I am rather fickle with my love...

My bedroom furniture included a deep drawer dressing table. If I needed a boat or other form of transport for my dolls, the clothes would come out and a deep drawer fitted the bill perfectly. They were also watertight.

As I was sick, in my egocentric state, I assumed other things in my life weren't too chipper either. And that included the cat, Tibby. Tibby was one of the most vicious felines you could ever have the misfortune to cross, but that didn't stop me attempting to make her love me. Admittedly, I often went about it the wrong way, but my intentions were good.

So, I went on a Tibby hunt and to her great fear, found her, tucked her under my arm and manhandled her upstairs. There, she shot under my bed, hissing and growling and waiting for the next instalment in her own personal nightmare. It didn't take long...

I plodded downstairs, armed with the drawer, filled it with water and took it back upstairs. I then returned downstairs and got my medicine from the fridge and a teaspoon. If I was sick, Tibby was likely to be sick, too, and therefore required some medication.

Tibby was dragged from under the bed, bringing half the carpet with her as she embedded her claws into the pile and was unceremoniously plonked into a drawer of freezing cold water for her bath. Despite the raking she gave me, I held her down firm, and started to 'wash' her. She didn't like it, and my hands were getting a little bit sore from the gashes, bites and the blood dripping into the water. This confirmed it for me: she was definitely ill and required urgent medical treatment.

As I reached for the pseudoephedrine (great for making crystal meth, folks!) she returned to her own corner of hell under the bed and I undid the bottle cap. Back out she was dragged, clamped under my arm, and a teaspoon of bright pink medicine forced into her wailing mouth. Bad move, Tibby - keep your mouth shut around a bored child.

At this point, my mother burst in to the bedroom to spoil my fun, Tibby saw her chance of escape and a bottle of Sudafed went flying as I jumped out of my skin at the roar of, "WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING TO THAT BLOODY CAT?!". My insistence that Tibby had caught tonsilitis from me didn't wash with Mother, I got the hiding of my life and was forced to stay in my room until my father returned from work.

Not only did Mother inform my father, she also told my older brother who is a peaceable, tree-hugging, hippy animal lover if ever there was one, and he came in to give me a rare kicking. I retaliated by battering him with my vandalised Tiny Tears.

Tibby and I never saw eye to eye after this incident and to get her own back, she took to lying in wait for me as I walked past her and raking me with her claws. She was always too fast for me to catch again so I just hexed her in my head.

They say only the good die young. Tibby was 17 when she snuffed it...

I shan't tag anyone for this meme, but be my guest to continue it should you wish.

3 comments:

Matt Chingduvé said...

To my great shame, I painted our lovely Labrador Monty, with 'stripes' to make him look like a Tiger! The poor sod just stood there and let me! Sadly, they were painted on using that dreadful black pitch/underseal paint, and of course poor Monty had to have his fur hacked off. He never really looked as good again, but he forgave me. Looking back, I cannot forgive myself for doing this!

Agnes Mildew said...

I think that must have been great larks, Sir Matt, actually. Almost as good as when I put Tibby on a lead and took her for a 'drag'. Unfortunately, she jumped over next door's fence, hissing and whirling like a dervish and I nearly had my arm ripped off. Once again, I got another kicking from the hippy brother...

karen said...

Great story, Agnes! Thanks for sharing it. I'm not sure who faired better - you or Tibby?