There’s me, Lee, a lady cat. I’m the one telling the story.
Mom and dad, my human parents.
Tom and Sukie, my best feline friends.
Woof, a visiting Persian kitten with a daft name.
JUST ANOTHER DAY
I had beef for dinner today. Mine comes in crunchy bits but mom gave me some of hers. I don’t normally eat human food but she knows I’m partial to a bit of cooked meat now and then. Best of it is I get it with gravy. You should see my tongue go when I get that; reckon I could win a medal for speed lapping. It’s always the gravy that hits the tummy first. I’m never given fish now. I haven’t eaten it since a bit of bream made me sick. A man in the white coat, known as Vet, said I was allergic. I don’t see him very often, only when I’m under the weather or need one of those needle things that are supposed to keep cats healthy. Being the healthiest cat on the estate proves they work.
I did have fleas once. There was a right performance when mom discovered one jumping through my coat. I was whipped off to Mr Vet’s place faster than you could say Be Off. Straight away I was washed with some antiseptic solution that smelled revolting, even to me, and then the nurse gave mom some tablets to put in my food. I have one of those every day now and they appear to be working. My fur is scrutinised religiously once a week, mom and dad taking it in turns to do a full investigation.
After dinner I had a bit of a nap on the couch, then went for a stroll in the garden. It was pleasant, nice and warm and dry, just how I like it. I’ve no patience when it rains, can’t be doing with it at all, not since I fell in a fishpond when I was young. Anyway, I don’t like the way I smell when I get wet. You should see me after dad gives me a bath ... on second thoughts, perhaps you shouldn’t. You’d only laugh.
Smokey was just leaving when I reached the lawn; I saw his tail disappearing through the hole in the fence. The fence is quite dilapidated, rotten wood that’s falling to bits. It’s not a very big hole but each time he goes through he knocks another bit of wood out of place. Stupid cat got his whiskers caught once, he didn’t half squeal.
Almost every day mom has a go at dad about the fence and every time he promises to get people in to replace it. So far he’s done nothing. When mom gets annoyed I try to calm her down. If I wrap my body round her legs she softens, picks me up and gives me a cuddle. It’s worth all the aggro just to get a bit of fuss. I like it when she whispers sweet nothings in my ear and tells me all her secrets. Some of them are real eye-openers, I can tell you, but it’s more than my life’s worth to repeat them. Dad calls me a little heroine for being able to shut her up. I can only agree with him.
Anyway, back to the garden. There’d been a spattering of rain while I was indoors and I could see Tom stepping over a small puddle. Like me he hated to get his feet wet. There was no sign of Sukie. I thought about asking where she was but Tom looked so downcast I thought I’d better leave it alone. He’s too old for upsets. Well, not old exactly, not like me, but he is quite set in his ways. When I told him about the beef dinner he looked even more crestfallen. I promised to try and get him some meat next time I went in the house. I know where’s it’s kept in the pantry, all I have to do is wait for someone to open the door.
I noticed a scratch on Tom’s nose, wondered if he’d had another set-to with Smokey. Poor Tom was never able to stick up for himself but he was learning to since getting to know Sukie. I thought about that. It must be nice to have someone stick up for you. I’d never had that luxury. If there was a battle to be fought I was on my own. No back-up from other cats, but that was before Tom came to live here. I think I could rely on him to help out if the occasion arose. Not that it would. When I start there’s no stopping me; being female allows me to fight dirty, see. Basically though I have a gentle temperament; just ask mom, she knows what a softie I am.
As it turned out, the scratch was caused by Tom’s close encounter with a neighbour’s chicken. Apparently it got out of the run and Tom had tried to help Mr Man catch it. Tom told me that Mr Man kept trying to push him out of the way which was a bit hurtful when he was only trying to help. It’s not above us cats to be useful at such times. Well, the chicken must have decided it didn’t want to be caught because it struck out with its beak, hitting Tom right on the nose. Quite sensibly Tom decided to let Mr Man and his chicken get on with it.
Tom and I meandered round the garden. Me looking for bare patches in the lawn where I could have a good dig and Tom eyeing the birds. He has a thing about birds. He doesn’t mind them being there but when they fly he goes into an excited fit, leaping up as if he’s trying to do a pirouette. Daft as a brush! He seems to forget that all birds have beaks. I told him to calm down or he’d regret it. I said to him, you’ll do yourself a disservice, but he just looked at me as if I was out of my head. Oh well, he’ll learn in good time ... if he lives long enough.
Mom called me in for afternoon tea ... hers, not mine. She likes her and me to have a cuddle while she watches the box in the corner. It’s called television. I have visions of my own when I’m on her lap being stroked. It’s nice being close to humans; I enjoy the smell of them, especially when mom’s been cooking. Human smells mingling with cooking smells are like an aphrodisiac, I feel quite aroused at times, hence the loud purring. I asked Tom if he wanted to come in as well, but he said he had to wait for Sukie. Shame, he could do with having a few visions.
I don’t think Tom has ever had his ears stroked, his owner is always out at work. I don’t even know if there’s any cooking done in his house. I’m sure he said there’s only him and the man living there and as far as I can make out men don’t cook. Perhaps it’s as well he couldn’t come in, mom might get too used to having more than one cat in the house and I don’t really want to share her with anyone. Dad’s okay, he’s human, but another animal could make life very difficult.
I’ll go in now. I can see another grey cloud coming over. Anyway, I’ve got to see if I can filch some beef for Tom. It would have been so much more convenient if he’d come here himself but never mind.
Catch you later.