Just how long is that?

There is a range of time that is defined by being longer than a cat is capable of controlling its bladder, but not so long that it is incapable of controlling its bowels. Somewhere within that range is the precise length of time for which Molly was stuck behind a bookcase prior to my getting home.

The case is in a fairly tight alcove, so the only way she can have possibly got behind it is by falling the six feet or so from the top, to end up wedged in the scarce couple of inches between furniture and wall. Unsurprisingly, she was fairly distressed by the predicament in which she found herself, however I didn't feel it was entirely necessary to viciously attack me as I attempted to extricate her. I did not enjoy that.

For the record, I also did not enjoy unloading all the books from the case, wriggling the case out of the alcove, mopping up the puddle of piss behind the case, wriggling the case back into the alcove or getting struck on the shoulder by the heavy wooden pig which I'd forgotten was perched on top of the case.

Does anybody want a cat? Free to a good home, a bad home or a dodgy kebab shop.