My kitten found some chillies in a bag this morning on the shelves where we keep jars of sugar, pasta and rice. They were the dried sort, with a really strong thwack tingling in the face built in them. Bored of mild curry, my boyfriend bought them a few moths ago and has been slyly integrating them into our meals to build some kind of fire resistance. I don’t mind this, until a seriously sized volcano of purple and red erupts and then continues to spill pain lava in my mouth, when I hit a slither of the white membrane or a slinky little seed. Everyone knows the seeds and white bits in the chilli are the throat shrinkers and tongue numb creators. ‘The bite in chilli is called Capsaicin. Most of the capsaicin is contained in the seeds and the membrane which when removed makes the chilli milder.’ My kitten, like Charlie, had not had the foresight to remove the seeds or membrane before attacking said chillies this sunrise. The seeds were sprinkled like inferno rain all over the floor, the chillies hearts ripped open, and kitten Francois’ eyes watering.
Well, at least to me they looked slightly red and moister than normal, a little duller than their normal swimming pool of black pupil, and take me hunting excitable selves. What do you do when your kitten eats chillies? Bathe the ginger fluff in natural yoghurt? Take him to the vets to get his little stomach pumped? Anguished and not quite risen I decided to get out the hoover and suck up the remaining seeds and skins on the floor. From the scuttling sounds this morning, Francois had been playing with the shrivelled bombs like they were insects. As I struggled to catch the flying skins from the mini swiping paws and claws, I considered that perhaps the chillies were mere toys to the Tom, as opposed to cheese, crisps or bread that he eats with relish. Maybe no amount of chilli passed the cheeky chops.
I just don’t know.
Right now he is locked in a ball, occasionally adopting a superman pose and stretching out his back paw toes. I’m looking for watery eyes still. I’m hoping there isn’t a ball of fire in the lion’s belly. I got some natural yoghurt in Spar just in case it helps. I think I’ll stay in and look after him tonight. The boy needs a lap and some gourmet. I wish he could speak.
