FERGUS GETS STUCK
Norma heard it as soon as she opened the door. Dumping the cat litter and huge bag of cat food, keys crashing to the floor she started towards the lounge. He was crying like a baby; it was horrible. She frantically followed the sound to the lounge and drew a sharp breath when it looked empty.
‘Here push, push, push, Fergus where are you? Com’on push cat’
The baby wailing was coming from under the sofa and as she crouched on her hands and knees, the new carpet felt – odd. Sticky. Cold.
‘Com’on, out of there.’ He looked up at her, wailing mournfully. It looked like he’d been thrashing around for ages, the bottom of the sofa had lots of bite marks and 2 claws stuck in it. And when she stood up and took her hands away from the carpet they were slimey. This was bit odd. She grabbed him and pulled and the noise got worse. ‘Stuck are you? Well hold off on the claws and I’ll get you out’
After pulling some more, she gave up, and still mumbling comfort, moved the sofa away from him. He was stuck fast to the new carpet. Not just three paws, but tummy as well. And as she pulled, she could see that there was no fur on his tummy. It looked like, well, like it had been eaten away almost. He’d been de-furred by something.
Norma was a practical person. Stroking Fergus to calm him, the first thing she did was phoned Colin her next door neighbour. A widower. Also in his 60s, very capable was Colin. He appeared at the door panting with a wooden spatula, large pair of garden shears and some WD40.
‘Oh Colin, WD40? That carpet’s only a month old!’
‘It’s that or Fergus, Norma, and I know how much you love him. Let’s see what we can do eh?’ When Colin said the word ‘love’ Norma started to sniff and a small tear appeared in the corner of her eye. Colin rushed past her and didn’t see. It wouldn’t do to let him see how upset she was. That was kind, especially as he didn’t like Fergus much, he was always pooing in Colin’s garden and digging up his seedlings.
The baby wailing started again as Colin sprayed some WD40 on the carpet around Fergus. And there was a nasty smell you could taste that rode over the chemical smell of the WD40. ‘Come on Fergus, we’ll get you out. You’ll live to dig up my veg patch. Ring the vets Norma, tell them what’s happening and ask if they’ve got any tips’.
‘Vets. Right’. Colin set to work easing the spatula gently under one of the Fergus’ paws amid more clawing and thrashing, during which time the terrible smell got worse.
‘It’s engaged. I’ll keep trying’
‘Got it!’ One paw was free. Which Fergus immediately started using it to claw the carpet, getting quiet ferocious with his hissing.
‘It’s the Nanozome stuff Norma, I’ve been hearing about this on the net’. Norma’s new carpet was treated with Nanozomes. Supposedly the tiny nanobots would ‘eat’ the dust and dirt and keep it clean without ever really needing a hoover. Norma was terribly proud, it was very new, had cost her a fortune, and she was the first in the Close to get one. Only now binning the hoover didn’t seem like the best thing she’d ever done, with Fergus’ tummy stuck to the bloody carpet and Colin wielding a spatula and spraying WD40 about.
‘Yes. I have an emergency. My cat is stuck to the carpet.’
‘Yes, it is treated with Nanozomes.’ She frowned and looked at Colin who raised his eyebrows, waved the spatula, and pulled an ‘I told you so’ face.
‘Well we’re trying WD40 just now’ The vet wasn’t very helpful. They’d had quite a few instances and hadn’t had much success, apparently the only thing they could recommend is cutting him out of the carpet with the carpet and bringing him in to the surgery so they could try cutting it off themselves.
‘Try to keep him calm they said, and don’t let him go into shock’.
Colin eventually got all 4 paws freed. So they stopped for a bit and gave him something to eat. As he stood up something dark and gooey, the colour of his dark green cords, stayed on the carpet.
‘You’d better watch this Norma, this stuff is evil.’
‘Colin, now really, it’s only a carpet.’ She smiled weakly and tried not think about owning an evil carpet.
‘It’s got that Nano stuff on it. In it. Part of it. If you’d listened when I did the research, you’d never have bought it. This has been going on for months and they’ve kept it quiet. This stuff is dangerous Norma. I’m serious, just look at what it’s done to poor Fergus. It’s got to go.’
His ears pricked up at his name, he looked quieter, more relaxed, but the tummy was going to be difficult. It looked – just like the Nanozomes had sort of eaten his fur. And probably working on his tummy too, or at least the skin.
Norma sighed. There was nothing for it, they’ve had to cut him out of the carpet and take him to the vets. As Colin cut, something sticky gripped the shears, and they had to resort to a stanley knife. A few broken blades later and he was free. Well, with a bit of carpet still stuck to his middle. She bundled Fergus into a towel and looked back her lounge. Colin was shoving the furniture into the hall, which squelched as he pushed. It seemed for a moment like the carpet was, well, fighting them. Maybe it was evil.
‘Don’t you worry Norma, this’ll be in the Robertson’s skip by the time you’re back. Filthy stuff.’
He was in his element she realised, big gardening gloves on, shifting stuff about, taking charge. Not for the first time she blushed looking at him. He was a nice man, helping them both, especially when he didn’t really like Fergus much.
She laid Fergus tenderly in a rug on the back seat of the car and sped off. As she went round the corner, Colin slipped and fell his length in the lounge.
He was out for a couple of seconds and when he came to, he couldn’t move his head. ‘Oh no you don’t’ he said to an empty room ‘you’ll not get me if I have to use a bloody flamethrower and burn the street down’. Wrenching his head off the carpet was very very sore. It’s left hairs and he yelped. Then he slid out of his jumper and trousars, and reached for the WD40. He stood up, and liberally sprayed the carpet. It seemed to sort of shrivel away from him, so he managed to unstick his boots.
He looked admiringly at the blue and yellow can. It was true what they said. All you needed in a crisis was WD40 and some gaffer tape. He set to work on the carpet with the stanley knife, ghostly blue white skin offset by gardening gloves, y fronts and stout boots, humming tunelessly to himself.
‘There you go, you little buggers. That’s settled your hash’.
Lucy Lowe – 20/11/07
8 years ago
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