It’s always exciting to tick off another first in life. Or maybe not.
I could have done without ticking off ‘cat bites.’ For anyone who hasn’t read the full story, it’s over here on Clouds.
As I now consider myself to be an expert on cat bites and treatment thereof, I shall share my amazingly useful experiences with you all.
On dashing into the flat, I ran into the bathroom, managing not to faint from extreme loss of blood, and turned on the cold tap to stop the bleeding.
Having accomplished that, or at least stemmed the sanguinous flow, I retraced my steps to catch up Partner and dog.
Returning from dog walk to flat, I turned to the trusty medical dictionary to frighten everyone silly, aka the internet.
For those of you who don’t know, as well as being vicious unpredictable little bastards, cats also have filthy mouths. Possibly even moreso than mine.
They are full of very nasty bacteria. Even if they stay inside apparently they forage through their litter tray. Yuk. Well, so it said on the internet and I believe everything I read.
So, what does one do, having been bitten by one of those unhealthy creatures? Well, they may not be unhealthy, but I would not recommend getting bitten by one.
There seemed to be two alternatives. Call an ambulance and get rushed off to A&E for some antibiotics before septicaemia sets in and your arm drops off.
Grate some carrot and apply a poultice to bites, something in the carrot draws out the nasties.
Ah Dear Readers, those of you who know me even partially will know that I do not like wasting scarce NHS resources. Nor do I like wasting expensive organic carrots, even though I had a stock in the fridge.
‘Salt water,’ said the armchair medic. ‘Put some salt in hot water and soak your hand in it.’ So I did.
Not to be outdone in the home remedy stakes, I countered back ‘Aloe vera, I need aloe vera.’ I sent him out to find some as it grows all over the place. I squeezed the gel on the life-threatening wounds.
That night I dreamed about mad packs of vicious cats attacking my hands and leaping all over me. I woke up with my hand throbbing away, and still badly swollen. Maybe I should have called the ambulance after all. I needed to monitor the situation regularly to await the onset of septicaemia and a green and poisoned arm.
That morning, Partner met cat owner on the landing, and pointed out that I had been badly bitten by darling cat, and that it really wasn’t a good idea to leave it out on the staircase as our dog had been programmed to Kill Cats.
‘Oh he likes the fresh air,’ she said. Had that been me I would most likely have said one of:
‘Then open the fucking window,’ or
‘Take him upstairs and sit on the roof with him.’
Still, Partner wasn’t the one with the swollen painful throbbing hand that was about to drop off, so he smiled nicely and repeated his polite suggestion to keep Fluffy inside.
Until this point I hadn’t actually realised that he was being deliberately let out. I thought they were being irresponsible by letting him escape, rather than being irresponsible by letting him out. Takes all sorts huh? But really, a block of flats where you live in common with a lot of people is not your own house or your own private space.
We cleared off to Spain and I continued with the salt water/aloe vera treatments.
The ending to this dramatic tale is something of an anti-climax. My hand got better. The last event of any significance was on new year’s day when I managed to knock the scab off the biggest puncture wound and bled happily at the Belén. Fortunately not too much. Or over my good coat or my cream pullover.
So there you go. Next time you get bitten by a cat, if you don’t feel like dashing off to A&E, haven’t any carrots in the fridge – you can always try salt water baths and aloe vera gel.
I did say to Partner, ‘I don’t understand why he bit me. We were best friends the other day.’
You can tell I’ve never lived with cats can’t you?