The Buzz Club gals and I had an impromptu hive gathering yesterday to catch up on how our Christmas and New Year festivities went.
They weren't very impressed when I told them we were moving at the end of the year. They sniffed in disdain at the photos of the house we’re buying and ignored me when I reminded them about the surprise going away party I’ve always dreamed of and I dearly hoped they were planning.
I told them about how Scotto dropped his phone on our holiday and had to fork out for another $300 specimen because his contract wasn't going to run out for eighteen months. Personally I would have bought a cheapo from Coles as a self-punishment... but not him.
“Didn’t it come under your household insurance?” asked one of the Queen Bees.
Sadly our household insurance has an excess of $500.
“So you’re moving to a place infested with paralysis ticks and taking four dogs with you. Do you have pet insurance for all the multitudes of animals you own, Pinky?” asked Shazza.
“Just one dog is insured,” I replied.
“Which one?” asked Lee-lee. “I’ll bet it’s that bloody spoiled little bastard Chihuahua.”
“It’s whichever dog gets hit by a car,” I answered.
Our insurance only covers a ‘male dog’ and it doesn't specify a breed so which ever dog is unfortunate enough to ever become involved in an incident shall be THE MALE DOG.
“What if it’s Celine who becomes ill?” queried Kyles.
“Well… we’ll just say we thought she was a boy dog when we bought her. Anyway, the insurance only covers injury not illness.”
“So…” continued Kyles, “if one of the dogs get a paralysis tick I suppose you could push it in front of a car and they’d have to fix everything up for free?”
“I suppose,” I shrugged.
“And what about your cat? Is she insured?” asked a concerned, feline-loving, Kaz.
“No, she’s not insured. I guess we could say we thought she was a dog when we bought her,” I pondered out loud. “We could say we were a bit concerned because we thought she was a kitty-kat but the pet salesman duped us and told us she was a Corgi.”
“I don’t think they’d believe you,” quipped Kyles draining her cup of Earl Grey. “She doesn’t look anything like a Corgi. She could pass for a rabbit, maybe.”
“There’s a $40 000 fine for keeping rabbits in Queensland,” I replied glumly.
There was a moment’s silence.
“Would anyone like to have my cat?” I asked hopefully. “She’s fourteen and won’t be around much longer.”
Everyone stared into their teacups.
“Maybe she’ll pass away before you leave,” Kyles finally said.
“Doubtful,” I mused. “She only cost me twenty bucks. She’s like a Bic lighter. Those moggies just keep going on forever. If she was an expensive Persian or Chinchilla she’d have died years ago from feline enteritis or something.”
I told them about how Scotto dropped his phone on our holiday and had to fork out for another $300 specimen because his contract wasn't going to run out for eighteen months. Personally I would have bought a cheapo from Coles as a self-punishment... but not him.
“Didn’t it come under your household insurance?” asked one of the Queen Bees.
Sadly our household insurance has an excess of $500.
“So you’re moving to a place infested with paralysis ticks and taking four dogs with you. Do you have pet insurance for all the multitudes of animals you own, Pinky?” asked Shazza.
“Just one dog is insured,” I replied.
“Which one?” asked Lee-lee. “I’ll bet it’s that bloody spoiled little bastard Chihuahua.”
“It’s whichever dog gets hit by a car,” I answered.
Our insurance only covers a ‘male dog’ and it doesn't specify a breed so which ever dog is unfortunate enough to ever become involved in an incident shall be THE MALE DOG.
“What if it’s Celine who becomes ill?” queried Kyles.
“Well… we’ll just say we thought she was a boy dog when we bought her. Anyway, the insurance only covers injury not illness.”
“So…” continued Kyles, “if one of the dogs get a paralysis tick I suppose you could push it in front of a car and they’d have to fix everything up for free?”
“I suppose,” I shrugged.
“And what about your cat? Is she insured?” asked a concerned, feline-loving, Kaz.
“No, she’s not insured. I guess we could say we thought she was a dog when we bought her,” I pondered out loud. “We could say we were a bit concerned because we thought she was a kitty-kat but the pet salesman duped us and told us she was a Corgi.”
“I don’t think they’d believe you,” quipped Kyles draining her cup of Earl Grey. “She doesn’t look anything like a Corgi. She could pass for a rabbit, maybe.”
“There’s a $40 000 fine for keeping rabbits in Queensland,” I replied glumly.
There was a moment’s silence.
“Would anyone like to have my cat?” I asked hopefully. “She’s fourteen and won’t be around much longer.”
Everyone stared into their teacups.
“Maybe she’ll pass away before you leave,” Kyles finally said.
“Doubtful,” I mused. “She only cost me twenty bucks. She’s like a Bic lighter. Those moggies just keep going on forever. If she was an expensive Persian or Chinchilla she’d have died years ago from feline enteritis or something.”
So it looks like we’ll be driving down the highway at the end of the year with four dogs (three uninsured) on the back seat and an uninsured twenty dollar cat* in the boot.
Unless of course you’d like a cat?
Unless of course you’d like a cat?
*Of course she won't really be in the boot. Our luggage will be in the boot. She'll be in the glove box. Or in a fudging luxury pet pack in an airplane while the rest of us travel on the fudging Marlborough horror stretch. Typical bloody cat huh?
Linking up with Grace from With Some Grace for #FYBF
Linking up with Grace from With Some Grace for #FYBF
