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 a 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. Meow!
I never knew that our feline friends could be allergic to fish. That seems to be a rare occurrence. I enjoyed this delightful post, which helped brighten my day.
ReplyDeleteNot normally, but I remembered the local vet saying it could happen so I used that piece of info in the tale. Glad you enjoyed the read.
DeleteThe inside story on a cat's life!!!! :D
ReplyDelete... with a difference, Jenny.
ReplyDelete"When I start there’s no stopping me; being female allows me to fight dirty, see.'
ReplyDeleteBwhahahahaha! OMG, Valerie, that made me laugh out loud. Brilliant!
What an utterly charming chapter. You have such a wonderful way of making each character (whether they be human or animal) come to life so vividly; each having their own distinct personality.
Well done, my friend. Looking forward to the next chapter!
Hope you're enjoying a fantastic weekend!
X to you and Charlie
Hello Ron. I am so pleased you enjoyed reading Chapter 2. Looking at Charlie this morning I thought what a pity he can't read - on the other hand maybe it's a blessing! Hope you enjoy/ed the weekend.
DeleteHaha, your story made me grin. Men don't cook? Don't tell Jamie Oliver that!
ReplyDeleteI won't breathe a word ggg
DeleteGreat chapter; I think Charlie would approve.
ReplyDeleteLOL I deliberately don't leave the book lying around just in case he doesn't approve.
DeleteI thoroughly enjoy your feline capers Valerie. Great story!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Denise. I confess it was fun to do.
DeleteRight meow, Feline Capers is the greatest. It's a great read to close out my blogging day. Thanks, Val, and take care.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Matt. Have a great weekend.
ReplyDeleteI hope Tom got his beef!
ReplyDeleteOne of our hens, known as 'Billie the Beak' would stand no nonsense from cats or dogs - she was always ready to attack and she meant business!