1 down, 8 to go...

Cats are wonderful creatures, really they are, I know they poop in your freshly turned flower beds and like to sleep anywhere they're not supposed to (i.e. Your bed, the ironing pile, the baby's cot. They are also a source of comedy genius... Drinking out of the sink taps when you're trying to brush you teeth, stealing your still warm pizza whilst its resting on the cooker top (one piece was discovered toppingless on the kitchen floor, another in the garden and another halfway up the stairs) and yes, this young troublemaker is responsible for all of them.
So, the lack of lives isn't me this time. Stewie came home covered in blood at the weekend. Virtually on 3 legs. After a lengthy examination from myself it appeared he'd split one claw on his back leg, lost 2 on the other and had teeth marks around his front white leg from a suspected dog. So the next day, lots of rest, later that evening the leg has doubled in size. Cue momma with the hibiscrub and some scab picking exclaiming 'tomorrow you go to the vets'. Well, the next morning I woke to find a happy cat with a slight limp bouncing at the back window... I wouldn't like to see the state of the dog/cat who picked the fight.