ANYONE who knows me will confirm that I’m not great with pets.

I even struggle to pick them up and am allergic to most furry types.

However, an elderly frail friend called Margaret asked if I would do her a favour and help her to take her cat to the vet.

Now, of every animal I have ever been in contact with, I have a fear, and am allergic to cats the most.

But what could I do?

“No bother Margaret.” I agreed.

“Just let me know when the appointment is and I’ll be there.”

Foolishly I assumed that all I had to do was beep the horn and sit in the car whilse Margaret came out with Flossie her cat, I would drop them at the vet, wait, and then take them home.

Simple.

But like most things in my life, it was anything but simple.

Beep beep.

I looked up to see Margaret standing on her front door step while beckoning me inside.

“Janice,” Margaret seemed rather flustered.

“Flossie’s disappeared somewhere in the house,” she explained looking rather perplexed.

“Can you come in and help me look for her as I think she’s hiding because she knows she is going to see the vet.”

I did wonder how Flossie had worked out she was being taken to the vet however, reluctantly I entered the house to join in the pursuit of old Flossie.

Now, I searched in every nook and cranny in the old dusty bungalow, but somehow the cunning cat was nowhere to be found.

“I think she’s hiding under my bed.”

Margaret suddenly surmised, having run out of places to look.

Now on hand and knees, I lifted the corner of the candlewick bedspread, and sure enough two huge green eyes were staring back at me.

“Here Flossie Flossie,” I nervously whispered, as I secretly prayed the mangy cat would stay exactly where she was and I could go home.

“Here Flossie Flossie," was another feeble attempt.

Unexpectedly, due to the dust under the bed and the cat hairs, I went in to an uncontrollably loud sneezing fit which caused old Flossie to start hissing and clawing at my outstretched hand.

Stuff this for a carry on. I mumbled.

“Sorry Margaret, but it looks like Flossie is not for budging.”

Without warning, frail old Margaret pushed the long handle of a brush under the side of the bed where Flossie was hiding which caused her to shoot out from under the bed like a cannonball.

“Quick Janice grab hold of her.”

Margaret seemed pleased with her actions.

Still sneezing I managed to pin down old Flossie (although that wasn’t what I was calling her under my breath).

Flossie was still hissing and scratching on my lap as I attempted to rub my bloodshot eyes which were now itching like crazy.

“Put her in this cage,” Margaret instructed.

“And I’ll get my coat.”

Now, I don’t know about you, but if you’ve ever tried to lift a cat, it’s anything but easy.

With both hands wrapped firmly around old Flossie’s body, I attempted to lift her.

But as I did, she stretched like a never ending piece of elastic.

Flossie’s body was above my head yet her razor like claws were still attached to my new expensive tights.

Arrrrgh…. I hate cats.

In pain from the razor sharp claws I screamed.

“Margaret, you’ll need to help me put Flossie into the cage as she’s stuck to my legs.”

I desperately wanted detached from the beast.

“Be gentle with her,” the old biddy snapped at me.

“Gentle?”

“Gentle Margaret?”

“Flossie’s like the bloody Tasmanian Devil.” I couldn’t help myself, “She’s wild.”

Margaret was unimpressed with my outburst and name calling of her best friend Flossie, but I was in a right state.

Having returned from the two hour trek to and from the vets I sat somewhat dishevelled on Margaret’s old couch as she brought through a cup of tea in an old china cup and saucer.

Eyeing me from top to toe, Margaret attempted to be funny.

“I think it’s you that needs to see a vet Janice.”

And in many ways she was right.

My recently coiffured hair was like a burst cushion with dust sticking to most of it.

Peering through the gaps in my shredded tights I could see fresh claw marks similar to those on the backs of my hands.

My eyes were so swollen they were like slits, which did hide fact that they were bloodshot, and my nose was like Rudolf’s, red raw and pouring.

However, I reckoned if I’d paid a visit to the vet, he would have had no hesitation in putting this mangy old feline down.