Dance of the Summer Sunscreen

I'll start by stating the obvious.

I am a white cat.
I am a very white cat.
I am whiter than freshly fallen snow.

OK, since I live in the 'winter less' north I have never seen or met snow so I will put it another way.

I am so white that at night under Auckland's light polluted skies I attract moths.

I am seriously, luminescently white.

That is my problem. That and the depleted ozone layer.

I get sun burnt, on my ears to be exact.

Now the vet has this sunscreen that is supposed to be put on my ears and nose
It is a thick greasy titanium- zinc ointment specially formulated for cows and horses.

I hate it.

I've gotten very good at avoiding it. I recognise the tube on sight. Sunscreen application time looks like a scene from an old British comedy Benny Hill. Ending with me heading over the fence with four people and a tube of sunscreen and camcorder in tow.

Cue: Yakety Sax.

My only saving grace is so far I have avoided getting caught (in a halfway decent shot that is) on video and have thus escaped the ignominy of youtube fame.

Mostly I have learned to keep my head out of the sun but sometimes I like do a little baking and get caught out.

The problem with that is that healing sunburn gets itchy and sometimes I can't resist scratching.
Like I did yesterday.

Scratched sunburn bleeds, which leads to people noticing, which in turn leads to this morning's ambush - with sunscreen.

I was just settling down for a short snooze on a warm lap when I was grabbed and had this runny stuff slathered all over my newly scabbed ears at a thickness only the manufacturer would be happy with.

I am not a happy kitty!

Curse you ozone hole!