Cat-Ass-Trophic Car Story

Grumpy and frumpy, (me, not the cats), in the blur of the morning, fumbling towards the car with an outstretched hand absent mindedly clicking on the car door remote key, the car door refused to open. It was time to manually turn the key, just like some of us ancient folks used to do in the 20th century.

As the door opened, a furball/victim/perpetrator (seen here on the left) suddenly jumped out from the car. Jings! I'd locked poor Thumper in the car overnight. After apologising profusely through the medium of hooded eye contact and administering lots of shamefaced strokes and cuddles, I then turned to the car, removed the layer of fur everywhere as best I could, thanked the stars Thumper had kept his paws crossed for his overnight stay and turned the key to ignite faithful old Betty's engine to get my old bones to work.

Nope, no, nada, nothing. Dead battery.

Borrowed the neighbours jump leads tonight (thanks Pat!), but alas to no avail, so it was AA home start to the rescue. Turns out Thumper had pushed the hazard lights with either his furry behind or his paws and had then endured Chinese water torture clicking noises all night. Then there was the cat paw prints all over the bonnet and windscreen. That would be furball number two, seen here on the right, probably taunting Thumper with his freedom all through the night.

"My cat broke my car" is only slightly more believable than my dog ate my homework.