I have a cat story. When I was at university, a guy on my course had moved into digs in Edinburgh because his family home was on the the other side of Scotland in Largs.
Despite his unfortunate beginnings, we became good friends.
Anyway, one night in first year, he'd been out on the lash, got back late to his room and crashed out.
About 3.00 in the morning I got a phone call from him asking if I was sober, if my car was working, and if I could possibly take him to A&E. I was able to answer positively to all questions.
What had happened was that he'd woken up about 02.30 with a raging thirst, still fairly hissed, and had crept downstairs naked and in the dark to get a glass of water. What he hadn't realised was that the family cat had just had a litter of kittens in her bed which was under the Belfast sink in the kitchen.
The cat had apparently decided that his dangly parts were a threat to her newborns...
He'd tried to patch himself up but simply couldn't stop the bleeding.
The nurses at A&E and I, did have considerable problems breathing that night.
;-)
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I despair! 
I despair! 