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ost_uid0]Nelson & Kizzy.
I could torture you all by refusing to explain, but I'm feeling less cruel than usual, so:
Way back when (I just love that phrase), when I still lived on the Scottish mainland (to be prrecise Ayrshire, in a medium-ish-sized village called West Kilbride), the local vet had two black cats, who were quite possibly the most obese creastures I have ever laid eyes on (their names obviously being Nelson and Kizzy). One of them died a few years before I moved (I forget which, though it was probably Nelson), though the other was still alive. I should imagine it has long since copped it though. I always found this very ironic (the obisity, not the dying part) considering that they were owned by a vet, whom you would naturally think would try to keep his pets as healthy as possible. I'm not saying he was a bad vet though - he was actually quite good, which possibly increases the irony even more. This is completely unrelated to anything else I've just typed, or indeed anything at all ever, but they also had a small, rather horrid yappy little dog that wasn't at all unlike Porthos. Frankly, chilli would have been too good for it.
Edit: Sigh. It was meant in reply to 'tums', ok? Not even I'm that obtuse and strange that I could somehow make a mental connection between a pair of obese cats and Sputnik.[/color
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