Tag: cats

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Drat!

I had this system for getting exactly what I wanted out of people.

My tail would curl skywards, my eyes take on a particular pleading quality and my meow would sound proud but starved. It worked every time.

Today, my victim was the family’s three year old. 

Recently, I’d been watching him with Karl, the family dog. Charlie would get the scoop out of the second drawer in the kitchen, follow his father out of the house and to the big tin bin. Stan would then take the lid off the tin, and Charlie would dig the scoop into the dog biscuits. With a squeal of pure joy, he’d pour the biscuits into the dog bowl as Karl would watch on.

It got me thinking.

What if Charlie could get me food?

Today was my day.

Sauntering into the kitchen, I saw Charlie alone. With my high pitched I’m hungry mew, tail curled at just the right angle, my pleading eyes fixated on him. His beatufiul blues fixated on mine.

“Cat, hungry?”

Yes, oh yes.

He smiled, then used a chair to climb onto the kitchen table. Pulling a bowl of cereal off the table, its contents spilled everywhere. My eyes darted to the Weet Bix and milk, sloshing all over the floor.

It was not what I wanted. I wanted my cat food. Glancing up to the bench, I noticed an unopened tin. 

It was then I realised my mistake.

Charlie didn’t know how to use a tin opener.

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17 Cats

17 cats. How did he end up with 17 cats. And at his age! 60 years old was too old to have 17 cats. 

His only desire was to be left alone. That meant NOT having any cats, let alone 17 of the damned creatures! 

And then he remembered. The month before he’d been drinking with his mates, and a stunning woman had walked into the bar. Not only was she stunning, but she was even his age.

Before too long, he had been shouting her rounds, until he was under the table. 

The night after had been bliss. The scent of her captivated him, and they had gone home together…back to his place. 

Now, it was a month since they’d met and he was surrounded by 17 cats.  In the bed beside him, he could feel warmth radiating from something underneath the sheets. He tentatively reached out his fingers. No, it was not her. It was his hot water bottle.

  And then the next lot of memories came back.

  She had confessed that she was dying. This was to be her last tryst as the disease that melted her insides was tightening its grip. She had no one to leave her 17 cats to. 

In the depths of passion, last week, he was chivalrous. In her will she had left them to him! And now, she was in the village morgue, awaiting burial by her cat hating family.