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Alice Hore

My weird little hermaphrodite cat Ginger Rogers came to an unfortunate end after a road accident recently.

It was not a huge surprise, as she (with a little bit of he) wasn’t the most intelligent of characters.

Ginger Rogers was then kept in the freezer for a couple of months awaiting burial. We used a post-hole auger to bury her at a block of land in Totara, and then planted a feijoa tree on top of her grave.

I got a lot of mileage out of the fact there was a dead cat in my freezer for a while – I didn’t have a usable kitchen at the time, so she wasn’t really in the way of getting to the roasts and chops.

All jokes aside, Ginger Rogers was a great cat. I shed a few tears and then I made the bold statement: “I will only get another cat if it is truly the most tragic specimen to ever exist”, or something to that effect.

Fast forward a couple of weeks. I was walking past the cemetery on the way to a friend’s house and I heard a faint “meow”.

My spidey senses kicked in, I scanned the grass area between headstones and there it was – a wobbly tabby kitten desperately trying to get my attention.

It was my own doing really – I tempted fate.

The tiny tabby cat turned out to have a condition called cerebellar hypoplasia (CH), also known as “wobbly cat syndrome”.

Appropriately now named Patsy Stone, the cat is incredibly unco-ordinated, wobbles and falls over – and she couldn’t care less.

New adoption . . . Patsy Stone has Cerebellar hypoplasia, a neurological condition in which the cerebellum is smaller than usual or not completely developed. PHOTO: ALICE HORE

The condition doesn’t get any better or any worse and, let’s face it, wobbly cat videos are internet gold, especially when videos include my giant Flemish rabbit Janis Joplin.

There is even a global Facebook group for owners of cats with CH. Unlike some of those owners, I will not be getting a stroller to take my disabled cat on adventures. Yes, that really is a thing.

The biggest challenge with a wobbly cat is litter box training – and Patsy has earned the nickname “poo-cat”.

I’ve had to bathe her twice already – she’s not thrilled about it, but sometimes life just isn’t fair.

I do wonder how Patsy came to be in the cemetery. It’s highly unlikely she found her own way there.

Cue rant: fix your cats. And if you are thinking about dumping your special needs kitten, at least have the decency to take it to the vet and get it euthanised, rather than leaving it to die in the cold.

I did contemplate a visit to the vet for Patsy. Pets are expensive (and I already have a full roster) and she is a lot more dependent on me than a regular cat.

But Patsy is just so darn endearing and adorable – and I think my flatmate might be emotionally attached.

So here we are, Patsy “poo-cat” and me.