Well Rio is home.

As expected, the first time I saw him i collapsed in a big salty puddle, but the vets were consideration itself and left us alone with him in the consultation room with a buzzer to call them once we had composed ourselves. 9 days later (too long!) we were able to pick him up and it looks much better, the fur has grown back a little, and it has made all the difference.

I was off sick from work when they called for me to pick him up. I changed out of my pyjamas, into an outfit that was as close to pyjamas as is socially acceptable, and decided against showering, removing the mascara under my eyes or looking in the mirror. So of course as I strode into the vets, with my greasy hair plastered against my face, they asked if they could film us for Japanese television.

The only time I could pick him up was late afternoon, which meant that I too had to brave the hideous Marunouchi Line crush. Jess and I now have matching blood-spurting wounds. He howled like a grieving old woman, and thrashed possessed inside the bag, gnawing frantically at the sides of the bag. None of the other commuters came even close to cracking a smile, they just pressed their eyes shut a bit harder. He then weed all over me and pooed inside the bag. Nothing like the stench of cat piss to endear you to your fellow commuters. A kind young guy gave me a seat and he calmed down a little after that. A little girl in a pea-coat and her grandma got on next to me, and the little girl couldn’t stop giggling every time he let out a low gurgling reow. Her grandmother tried to stop her laughing, but it was beyond her powers. I opened the flap to show her the cat, and he was pressing his contorted face hard against the netting with a little bit of fang and claw hanging out. She enthusiastically told me he was kawaii, which i thought was a generous assessment.

a blurry picture, but how cute is his face squooshed up by the bandage?

The wound.

Close up

“freak accident” or evil after all?