Siamese cats have notoriously weak stomachs.
Ours, Mr Puck, is always vomiting, fountainously and publicly, like a first-year student.
So embarrassing, not to mention frightening.
I'm not sure if you realise this but cat sick is a very dangerous substance.
Last Friday, walking outside on to the deck, I slipped on a puddle of cat sick and fell into the bamboo.
Ruined a lovely designer dress, green stains all over its bottom.
Landed smack on elbow once broken before, falling off my bike just outside Plato (the economist had yelled STOP! Startled and literal, stopped pedalling. Did not put feet down. Toppled over in slow motion like top-heavy, red-haired Tower of Pisa. Economist furious).
Elbow swelling alarmingly, decide to go to A&E.
Yes, I know too many A&E visits are alcohol-related.
Technically though, this was cat-sick related.
At A&E, it turns out I have tragic record of broken bones: one leg, one toe, one elbow and an index finger.
Approached by lady policeman.
"Is there violence in your home?" she asked, in a very understanding tone.
Thought she was having me on.
"Well it certainly looks like it!" I said, holding up fat elbow and gesticulating with sarcasm which might have been confused for brave, brittle victimhood.
"Is there somebody in your house who is hurting you?" She persevered.
God love me, I paused.
Now, it occurred to me that the lady policeman thought I was being thumped on a regular basis by the economist.
While this is hilarious as a concept, the economist being a very mild, if devastatingly handsome man, the chart listing my accidents does read as if made up by compulsive liar or frightened punching-bag: "broke leg roller skating in tight red dress", "broke elbow when stopped pedalling", "broke finger in door of bicycle shop", "broke toe tripping over bed while temporarily blinded by insect repellent".
I blurted what every well-dressed wifey reporting with random broken bones probably says: "Oh no, I'm just a very clumsy woman."
Nobody was buying it.
Only made things worse.
My natural nervousness not helping.
Decided to be very clear: "I slipped on some cat sick," I explained slowly, "and fell into the bamboo."
Slipped on cat sick, wrote the nurse.
"Had you been drinking?" she asked.
Had.
Now not only beaten woman, drinking to hide pain.
Came home from A&E and naturally related this tale of mistaken domestic abuse to the economist.
"Oh my God!" he shrieked, "they'll be round here any moment!" Could see why he was so worried, economists having received a lot of bad press recently, going missing and bonkers, murdering people.
Didn't want my falling over to exacerbate matters, though found myself in unforeseen position of power.
It would have been all too easy to get the economist into a world of trouble (not too mention exact terrific revenge for the great retaining wall fight of 2009), but I would never stoop so low.
Though did consider it during pause (above).
"Economists are the new bad boys," I offered.
"They're definitely action figures," the economist concurred.
The phone rang.
"That'll be the cops," he dolefully intoned, resigning himself to jail time.
Was Telecom salesperson.
This Friday, rode home after drinkies accompanied by economist.
"Don't you dare fall off that bike!" he shouted.
People turned.
"I won't be responsible for what I'll do if you fall off that bike."
Old ladies gave him looks.
He growled and muttered (bloody clumsy woman bloody always bloody falling over) the whole way from Forbury to Hillside.
I was so distracted by this ranting, I rode into the side of the Fitzroy Hotel.
"I'm not speaking to you," he said.
Note: The above article is intended as satire and the author is most definitely not being harmed by a large economist - although it would be more patriotic if he had been giving me the bash, as domestic abuse is sickeningly common in this country.
According to Shine (2shine.org.nz), the national domestic violence charity, one in three NZ women report being abused by an intimate partner in their life time.
For a confidential ear, freecall 0508 744-633 from anywhere in the country, mobile or landline, between 7.30am and 11pm.
