Neil Hudson: Stop press! Cat bites man

CAT FLAP: As in, getting in a flap over a cat, or a cat bite... (disclaimer: this is not the actual cat which bit me...)
CAT FLAP: As in, getting in a flap over a cat, or a cat bite... (disclaimer: this is not the actual cat which bit me...)
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one thing I won’t recommend is allowing yourself to be bitten by a stray cat. Or any cat come to that. It’s not nice. The aftermath involves needles, pus, swelling, worryingly upbeat GPs and in my case having to wear a sling.

Are you ready for this? Are you sitting comfortably? Then let’s begin.

I speak, of course, from recent personal experience. Said incident happened just over a week ago. Now, to give you some background, there are three cats in our household, by which I mean three which we ‘own’. Not that you can own a cat, as such but let’s just say we have an arrangement, which involves us buying them food and protection against fleas and ticks and whatnot and giving them shelter from the worst of the English weather and in return they... hang on a sec.

When I come to think about it, there is no quid pro quo. Only quid. As in lots of them. Disappearing from my pocket.

Mostly, our cats are annoying, in that they seem to exist purely to ruin our furniture (mainly by scratching and malting), while simultaneously using the place as their personal latrine. Which is why they get to sleep outside a lot.

Anyway, like I said: we’re a three-cat house and I like to think I know how to handle a mog. I’m not a cat whisperer or anything but, you know, I can make that funny squeaky sound with my lips and one of ours even climbs on my shoulders and lays down across my neck, which kind of makes me feel a bit Mick Dundee at times.

So, when a new (possibly feral) black cat turned up, I didn’t hesitate in offering it some attention. Strokes and chin rubs were gratefully received. All good. But then I picked New Black Cat up, at which point the beast bit me, sinking its canines into mine own flesh!

Blood was drawn, there was pain and pride was damaged as the whole thing was witnessed by my other half.

What followed was like a YouTube horror story, as my hand swelled to the point I could not longer see my knuckles. A trip to the GP revealed I probably had something called cellulitis, which is not good and can lead to even more unthinkable conditions. The GP, however, was surprisingly upbeat, even smiling as she signed me off work and told me to put my arm in a sling and have a tetanus jab.

Apparently, cat bites can be worse than dog bites, owing to the bacteria they carry. A week in, the pus has gone, my knuckles have returned and while I’ve even seen New Black Cat since, I shalln’t be picking it up any time soon.