Ways I do not like to spend my Fridays part one: Covered in pus

Imagine my surprise when I went to pet my cat, Leo, who was sleeping soundly on my bed, when I discovered that his neck was covered in putrid smelling pus. On closer inspection I found that it seemed to be coming from an absess on his neck which we had somehow been oblivious to. Until now. Leo is always getting in scraps with other cats, and I had noticed that he had a healing wound, but had no idea that there was an absess forming below it. I am such a bad mother.

So I wrapped him into a bundle using a towel (for fear of being covered in the foul smelling goo), and whisked him away to the vet's. Sarah had cunningly managed to orchestrate it so that I was the one left holding the pus-ey cat while she kept a safe distance. Stupidly, once in the car, with a growling Leo on my lap, I let me grip slip. Cue: wildly scrabbling kitty and spurting amounts of unspeakablness as the wound kept getting squeezeed out. By the time we actually reached the vets both Leo and myself were in a state of shocked horror.

You will be relieved to hear that Leo's prognosis is good, in a few days his wound will have drained and he will fully recover. I, on the other hand, have been mentally scarred by the whole affair. I may never be able to eat custard again. On top of this I was virtually made to strip naked and be hosed down outside before Sarah would let me back in the house, and even now she still wrinkles her nose in disgust whenever she comes too close.