Reasons not to leave Daddies at home with small rodents nearing the end of their lives
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I stepped out of the house yesterday morning and, towards me, padded a neighbour's cat. I beckoned to it and said, 'Come here, Puss, and have a stroke.' The cat eyed me suspiciously as if thinking, 'Does she like me, or does she want me to have a blood clot that paralyses one side of my body?' Hm, thought Ginger. Is she thinking 'massage' or 'massacre'? This episode amused me. (It doesn't take much.) I walked on to work grinning like an eejit, with the people driving past thinking, a) She's just stroked a cat and it's cheered her up or b) She's just watched a cat get paralysed and gets her kicks in a very odd way. Then I remembered a gerbil we used to have when our kids were little. Poor old Blackie. It's bad enough being born a gerbil, to be honest, without suffering the indignities he did.... We had two gerbils, Brownie and Blackie. I know these sound unoriginal names, but the people we inherited them from h