Kittens

When the chips are down, and the shit’s flying overhead, I like to think I have a pretty strong stomach. There are, however, no words, life experiences or time spent in a Hanoi P.O.W. camp which can prepare one’s constitution for warbles. Or the Presidency, apparently. Unless you’re a bonafied insectophile – turn away. Turn away now.

A veterinarian friend of mine sent me some photos today of several warbles which she removed from an 8-week-old kitten’s neck. Warbles aren’t like fleas or ticks but rather gigantic maggots which are usually transferred to living hosts by the “Bot” Fly – although my biology is probably severely lacking here. The point is that these things have to be seen to be believed.

I’ll spare you the photos of the monstrous larva being pulled from the neck of the sweet little kitty. I’d rather you fully came to understand my point by watching them removed from the back of this filthy hippy who apparently picked a few of the little bastards up while visiting Peru. They are not, however, particularly exotic. I mean, the Kingston Kitty had never been to the Yucatan.

Warbles, or whatever you’re supposed to call them apart from “oh my fucking sweet Jesus, what is that?!” are commonly spread by mosquitoes carrying eggs whilst jumping from person to animal to person and back again. Their eggs gestate and hatch after several weeks and then slowly bore their way out of their unfortunate host. The holes they leave are the size of quarters. They have spines and teeth. How have I never heard of this before? How can I get back to a place in time where I hadn’t yet heard of them – like after using one of those memory-erasing flash sticks from MIB? Fucking bleeeeech!

The kitten has lived to tell the tale, by the way, and I’ve read that most pets which suffer from this nastiness survive as well. I need a shower. In bleach.