Pesky humans

Most of the time they tend to be sort of okay, the people I look after. But from time to time they take it upon themselves to "fix me", like I'm some sort of bloody Coldplay project. I can take care of myself. You should see me out there, keeping neighbourhood cats and birds at bay, fighting off the stealthy slowworms. I don't know what they'd do without me.

Sure, once in a while a soldier catches some flak or shrapnel. I got a bite in the leg. Big deal. I'm limping a bit. Whatever. But they see this and think, "Oh, poor lamb, oh cuddly wuddly, oh vetty wetty."

I try to warn them off with a hiss and a swipe, but they can be pretty tenacious at times, and the next thing I know I'm being manhandled into the blasted carrier and sitting in a room full of dogs and rabbits.

And then they start turning my ears and eyes inside-out and sticking long metal spikes into my neck. Needless to say, I'm never more keen to get back in my carrier than after a trip to that place. I felt quite sleepy afterwards.