When a pet turns your hallway into a death trap
According to ACC, the most dangerous rooms in the house are the bathroom and kitchen, but I’ll wager you one million of my good-and-most-definitely-not-pretend dollars that the most dangerous room in all of New Zealand is my hallway.
Since the weather turned hot again, it seems my hallway has become a vortex, sucking in cats and strewing them about the carpet.
I have three of the furry beasts and one in particular has become a dangerous trip hazard.
PussPuss is a British blue, a breed known for its ‘‘cobby’’ body type. He is well-insulated by soft, dense fur and is basically a man of the shadows. You will never see him chasing sunbeams. His natural instinct to regulate his body temperature sees him stretching from his usual spherical shape, making himself as long as possible and lying belly up, paws to heaven.
Lately he’s done this along the skirting board of the hallway, keeping him out of my path, but the most recent incident was just outside my bedroom door where he could have caused me gross injury had I not grown accustomed to the fluffy health and safety threat.
I expect there is a science to it. Perhaps the more surface he can expose to cooler air, the quicker his body heat escapes. Perhaps he likes feeling a breeze across his paw pads and nipples. The more likely explanation is that he is trying to do me a mischief.
The truth is, I potter around my house asking my cats a lot of questions.
‘‘Do you want to sit in this box?’’ ‘‘Would you like a kitten for your birthday?’’
‘‘Have you had a nice sleep?’’ What it has never occurred to me to ask is, ‘‘Are you trying to do a murder on me?’’
There is a book called How To Tell If Your Cat is Plotting To Kill You. It contains such theories as:
‘‘If your cat is kneading you, that’s not a sign of affection. Your cat is actually checking your internal organs for weakness.
‘‘If your cat brings you a dead animal, this isn’t a gift. It’s a warning. And, excessive shovelling of kitty litter is practise for burying bodies.’’
So it’s not just me falling foul of their nefarious plans.
Pets and other animals do, in fact, cause us a fair number of accidents.
In 2015, ACC had 6752 claims relating to cats or kittens, paying out
$1,959,865. Last year, there were more claims, but overall the cost was less, so for 2017, ACC had 7413 claims but only $1,690,562 was paid out in total.
At the end of last year, my
98-year-old grandmother was very sick. In fact, she wasn’t expected to make it to Christmas. Not only did she pull a cracker, but something on her lung has disappeared from the most recent X-ray. Against all odds she was improving. Right up to the point she took a tumble while bending over to pat her cat. This is definitely the cat’s fault.
A 2015 Stuff story looked more broadly at pets and animals (beyond cats) to find horse-related injuries were the most expensive, but dogrelated injuries were the most prolific.
Using ACC data, it said New Zealanders claimed injuries from fish, guinea pigs, mice, monkeys, possums and more.
‘‘Insect-related incidents alone stung ACC for more than $1m,’’ the story said.
‘‘One person was head-butted by an escaping pig, one bitten on the finger by a mouse, another had their finger chewed when feeding a rabbit, and one was cut under the eye by a magpie.
‘‘A person was bitten on the bum by a seal, another bitten on the foot by an eel, and one bitten on the index finger while feeding sharks.’’
And there were 27 monkeyrelated injuries.
My friend Michelle and I have long-discussed forgoing a retirement home and becoming cat ladies on our own cat ranch. Top of our to-do list is install plenty of hand rails. We will not be beaten by murderous maniacs. Not on my watch, PussPuss.