Pet Rescue - Carnoustie!

Gwen eventually worked out where the cat noise was coming from that we had heard for the last couple of days. Since she was pregnant I was sent to attempt a rescue from the top of the scaffolding at the back of the old Victoria Wine building.

Clambering onto the top of the wall revealed a large drop to a narrow shelf, which having once been a wash house was complete with a large, rusting, metal basin. The basin's contents were unsavoury to say the least, but jumping down from this ledge landed me in Carnoustie's very own open sewer, looking for all the world like the run-off from a shanty town. No wonder that Queen Street often reeks on hot days. I couldn't see the source of the turgid brown slop, but the stone cover has been lifted from the drain closer to the high street to allow an exit. Just as well, or I could have been literally up to my neck in s***.

I quickly climbed up the less than stable scaffolding, but the cat was reluctant to come. So, a return journey to collect the cat box of our ex-cats. My reputation as an animal lover must have preceded me as the cat was having nothing to do with me despite its obvious distress. Another trip through the open sewer revealed a genuinely incredible display of brown in every shade imaginable and put me in favour of contacting the SSPCA.

At least I had managed to get the owners phone number from the collar. The SSPCA couldn't come out until tomorrow and there was no answer on the owners number. So Gwen decided to try tempting it across the roof with tuna. The owner then phoned and it turned out that 'Biggles' had been missing since the 7th. The combination of tuna and hearing his own name overcame his fear. However, it then became clear why he hadn't come this way before. The nesting seagulls began to dive bomb the poor moggy, but despite constant hary from the air, Biggles (fittingly enough) came through the aerial assault and Gwen completed the rescue with bloodied face.

One happy owner!
One call to environmental health tomorrow!