A few weeks ago, back in the days when our unborn baby was a closely guarded secret known only to immediate family and the two thirds of Brighton that Lisa had told in the first week, we had my future mother-in-law over for the evening. It was during those few hours, possibly fuelled by a heady mixture of Ty-phoo and battered fish, that she revealed to us the biggest threat faced by our first child:

My cat, Chloe. Apparently the child murder rate amongst felines is higher than any other animal (with the possible exception of dingos), and domestic cats are killing babies on a daily basis, all over the UK. In the words of Lisa's mother, "They don't mean to, but they do". It's something to do with the smell of milk coming from the baby's mouth. It turns cats into raging killers, hell-bent on infanticide. Or something. Anyway, the bottom line is that no child will see its first birthday with a cat in the house, and Chloe really ought to be drowned in a sack before October. I'm paraphrasing her there.

But wise as she is, Lisa's mother had reckoned without the power of my local Pound Shop. Lisa may have refused to trust their 3-for-a-pound pregnancy tests back in February, but there's no denying the sheer range of quality goods on offer. I popped in there this morning for some carpet shampoo (because I'm worth it), and look what I found...


It's a Cat Safety Net!

Of course, my cat has been performing without the aid of a safety net for years, and to be honest, I'm not sure it's her safety I need to be worried about, but other than that it's perfect. I've always wanted to follow Michael Jackson's example and dress my children like beekeepers. Of course, we won't be able to see our child through the net, and I'm not entirely sure it'll be able to breathe, but those are minor points. The main thing is that Chloe won't be able to commit murder. Especially as the first time she tries to jump into the cot, she'll rebound off the net like a trampoline, hit the ceiling and die. It might be kinder just to give her the sack.