The Time I Saved a Cat's Life with Vinegar

This is a true story about the time I saved a cat's life using vinegar.

First I need to tell you about the cats who used to live on my road.

A few doors down from us was a house where two black-and-white cats lived. They were large and contented-looking. They looked like they had seen the world and were now settling down to a nice quiet retirement, thank you very much.

We named them Un Puss and Deux Puss.

I would look out for them on my way to work. In the winter, one of them might be sitting in the window.

Sometimes they'd both be there.

In the summer, chances are one of them would be snoozing in the garden...

...or even both of them.

Whenever we passed the house, we'd do the Puss Count.

If I came home from work feeling stressed, my boyfriend would say "Combien de puss?" And I'd smile and say "Un puss," or "Deux puss." And all would be well.

(I don't know why we did this in French. But we did. And it seemed somehow appropriate.)

One day, we were driving home late at night when we saw something in the road.

It was Un Puss.

I got out to see what he was doing.

He had found a dead bird. The bird was squashed and smelly and definitely dead. Un Puss was besotted with it.

The trouble was, the bird was in the road.

I tried to nudge it out of the road with my foot, but it was well and truly frozen in place.

I picked Un Puss up and deposited him on the pavement, but he strode purposefully back to his bird.

Meanwhile, another car was trying to get past. "Sorry, there's a cat in the road," I said.
"Well, move it then," said the driver, reasonably.
"I can't. There's a bird frozen to the road," I explained.
The man looked like he was going to say something else, but thought better of it. He shrugged and turned his car round.

"We need a strategy," I said to my boyfriend.
"We could call the police," he said.
"They don't do cats," I told him, but I called the non-emergency number anyway.
"We don't do cats," said the bemused-sounding lady on the end of the phone.

Probably just as well.

I had a think.

We needed to stop Un Puss wanting to eat the bird.

We needed something that wouldn't poison him, but would make the bird less tasty.

Suddenly I had an idea.

"I'll be right back," I said, "I think we have some vinegar in the cupboard."
"Vinegar?" my boyfriend said doubtfully.
"Trust me," I said.

While my boyfriend explained to another driver that we had a Frozen Bird Situation, I fetched some vinegar from our house. Then I doused the bird liberally with it.

Un Puss was looking at me as if I had gone mad.

I admit, it is one of the more bizarre things I have done. As life experiences go, applying condiments to decaying wildlife is certainly a low point.

Un Puss sniffed the vinegary bird and recoiled in horror. His face was a mixture of anguish and betrayal.

Then he slunk back into his garden.

I felt like the worst person in the world. I had ruined his bird. But I had also saved him from being squished.

I don't think he appreciated this.

We don't live on that road anymore, but I still drive down it now and then. I always look out for Un Puss and Deux Puss.

Un Puss has never forgiven me.

That's cats for you.