Hamish McShanks

Ham Shanks Secret Diary w/e 4^th March 2007

I’ve noticed that most people get rather set in their ways as they get older, there seems to be a direct correlation between escalating years and increased resistance to change. This is perfectly understandable; if you’ve been used to picking up a bakelite handset and asking the operator to connect you to Mavis over in the next village, without having to mention her surname or indeed the number you actually require, then being handed a modern mobile phone and asked to send her a text message instead would be akin to attempting to make first contact with aliens from Mars.

Now before you start I’m not having a pop at the crumblies, sorry I mean ‘my elders and betters’. The reason I mention it at all is I seem to be starting down the same route myself. It’s a well known fact that you can’t halt progress. And if we were talking about scientific or medical advances then I’d have to agree that’s a good thing, but I was somewhat dismayed at my ignorance of recent advances when I visited the local pet shop to stock up on supplies for the imminent arrival of my new pussycats. Feline care seems to have taken some quantum leaps in the last ten years.

I say my ‘local’ pet shop, but it’s not really a shop, it’s a vast warehouse, and it’s not really local, it’s sited on one of these soulless retail parks on the outskirts of town. ‘Pets R’nt Us we only want your money’ I think it’s called? Anyway it’s crammed from floor to roof with everything you might ever need to feed, water and accommodate any variety of beasts from a woodlouse to a Shire horse.

Much as I dislike the place I have to admit it does come out on top when compared with the only other option in the vicinity; A tiny wee shop run by a dotty old biddy in the centre of town. Unlike the bursting at the seams mega store the ‘local’ option seems to stock a grand total of one item. This is kept on a remote shelf that requires the careful erection of an ancient two step ‘ladder’ for access. Clearly this is to deter any hoodies who might be thinking of a quick smash and grab then legging it into town to fence some ‘hot’ hamster wheels. Sorry I mean a hot hamster wheel.

Once you’ve patiently waited for her to return from the expedition to conquer the North West face of the shelf she will always advise you that what you requested is not in stock, and will have to be ordered in. But don’t worry ‘it will only be two to three weeks dear’ and she ‘can get Mavis to give me a ring when it arrives’ Sadly I didn’t think my new kitties could hold it in for that long, so feeling like a traitor, I was forced to visit retail hell instead.

Dressed in a trench coat, trilby and dark shades I snuck in the side entrance of the store and headed quickly for the ‘Cat’ aisle. ‘Right Ham, get the grub first, then the cludge material’ Slipping my glasses off I started scanning the various brands, picking up a can at random I read ‘From the Ocean Menu’, ‘Line caught organic Atlantic cod in a rich nourishing jelly’ wrinkling my brow I dropped it back on the shelf and picked another ‘succulent cuts of chicken and lamb blended into a mouth watering terrine-’, ‘what the fu-‘ The last time I had a cat the labels on the tins said things like ‘*Brand Name – Fish or Meat’ Your choice was based on which one honked least when you opened the can.

It would seem that now they were trying to appeal to my taste buds? Quite why I don’t know? I had no intention of eating the stuff. Plumping for the cheapest non-fish variety I ticked ‘food’ off my list and looked for signs indicating the direction to the litter trays.

It was at this point the salesman appeared. Too much to hope I could escape unmolested I suppose. However I would have appreciated it if he had arrived with slightly less stealth. Perhaps it was because we were in the feline section, but he arrived without making a sound ‘Can I help you sir?’ whispered a voice in my ear, ‘Jeeeesuschriiist’ I shrieked as I jumped out of my skin ‘Eeeer it’s ok, I’m just looking for a litter tray’ I replied awkwardly, gingerly clutching the back of my jeans, concerned that I might now need one myself ‘what type sir?’ I gave him a blank look ‘uuum what do you mean? They are all the same aren’t they?’ he smiled a predatory grin ‘if you’d like to follow me sir’

After several minutes brisk walking, and a bewildering number of left and right turns, we pitched up in front of the ‘feline hygiene’ section ‘What the hell are they?’ I asked pointing at the odd looking objects stacked up in front of me ‘this, my friend, is the Omega 19 self cleaning litter tray with integral hood, built in carbon filter for extra odour control, smoked glass entrance flap and of course a sieving double bottom-’, ‘a what?’, ‘a sieving double bottom sir, this helps reduce the need for removing solid waste-‘, ‘whoa whoa Tiger’ I waved him into silence ‘all I want is a fecking litter tray’, ‘there are more bells and whistles on that than there are in my own cludge’ I exclaimed in disbelief.

‘How much is this …thing anyway?’ I jabbed a finger at the plastic behemoth ‘The Omega 19 retails at £79.99’ he replied eagerly. Raising my eyebrows I gestured towards the far end of the aisle which was shrouded in partial darkness, one flickering light occasionally illuminating the dusty merchandise ‘lets have a look in your economy section shall we’, ‘as you wish sir ‘ he replied, fishing a torch out of his inside pocket.

Having selected the flimsiest cheapest plastic tray on display I was about to depart when he foolishly enquired whether I would be interested in a ‘Privacy tent’ to go with that. I looked at him askance ‘a privacy tent?’ I repeated incredulously ‘yes sir so your cat can carry out its business in private’ the word business was enunciated with particular care, as one does with a distasteful word. It was a bridge too far, I wasn’t coping well with the new ‘step change’ in ‘feline technology’.

‘Oh that’s a good idea’ I replied sarcastically ‘perhaps we could put a lock on the door as well and maybe install a magazine rack?’, ‘there’s no need -‘ ‘do you sell special cat toilet roll then?’, ‘Wha-‘, ‘Well presumably it will want me to wipe it’s arse as well?’, ‘really sir-‘, ‘ooooh right, maybe I could install a bidet then?’ he was about to retort once more when I grabbed him by the lapels, pulled his face up to mine and roared ‘IT’S-A-F-U-C-K-I-N-G-C-A-T!’ drenching his face in a foamy spittle.

So you can understand why I am concerned that I may not be ‘embracing change’ in a positive manner and why I’m worried that I am galloping into old age prematurely. Although I’m not galloping nealry as fast as that salesman went when I let him go – Like a whippet he was.

Doei