Someone tried to blow up parliament in England a few hundred years ago. Someone in China invented semtex a few thousand years ago. Because of this, English people hand over large amounts of cash at about this time of year to seasonal fireworks traders. They then proceed to blow the living bejesus out of themselves by returning to the blue paper of unexploded fireworks when they should still be retiring. Both hospital burns units and domestic animals don’t seem to appreciate explosions and colourful chemicals drifting through the night sky, and across people’s skins.
I don’t think it’s because I’m not a cat person. I think it’s because I’m not a shit person, that I don’t like looking after incarcerated felines. Especially during firework season when they become indoor feral shit-monsters. They race around the house digging their claws in the wallpaper to increase their cornering speed as they charge towards their allocated defaecation area of the house – the litter tray. Also called the shit and gravel tray. Also called the lucky dip. My task as cat tender is to go to the lucky dip and see what I can pull out from time to time. I place my prizes in a dustbin outside. The cats’ bowels seem particularly generous in firework season. I’m a big winner at the lucky dip tonight.