Right: wallet, keys, flowers – no, no flowers: the cat had done something unspeakable to the flowers. Which reminded me…
“Oy…!”
“Yes, master”, the cat said, not even bothering to take its snout out of its favourite food.
“I’m going to pick up the girlfriend from the airport now…”
Even from this distance I could hear the cat rolling its eyes.
“So you told me – twenty times already. What is this: Hell?!”
Bloody animal.
“What I mean is: I will pick her up, and then we go somewhere to eat, then to some bar – and then we come home.”
“So…? You’re taking her out. Big step for mankind: you’ve invented the date. What’s that to me?”
“Nothing - I sincerely hope. You’re not coming.”
The cat returned to its meal.
“Not that I trust you to behave when I’m gone…”
The cat was done eating. It started to lick its paws: left, right, left, right, left again.
“But I’m not going to hire a baby-sitter. So…”
“You’re not gone yet?” the cat asked - and then it yawned.
“So if you need me for something – anything bad happens – with the house … or to you…”
“Yes?”
“Then you can always call me.”
“You don’t have a mobile, you idiot.”
“Ah yes, you’re right. It was something else, of course. I remember now…”
“Yesss…?”
“When we come back, I do not want to hear you, or see you or even suspect you’re around.”
“Or I could just lock the two of you out.” the cat said.
“No, no.” I said; “You do not want to do that.”
“Oh?”
“Think ‘very scary man’, think ax, think ‘Heeeere’s JOHNNY…!’ Believe me, you do not want to go there.”
The cat yawned.
I pointed at it and said:
“You! Even the sainted Ms Gonick couldn’t love you! Now, I will see you – and I repeat: I will see you T O M O R R O W !!!”
“Yes, boss.” the cat said, and saluted.
I shook my head, put on my coat.
Wallet, check. Keys, check. Flowers… Oh, bugger.
Ah, the joys of having a cat…
Well, the next few hours – and hopefully the rest of the night – would be gloriously girlfriend-filled and conspicuously cat-free. I closed the door behind me, whistling an old Leonard Cohen song (by way of Jeff Buckley).
I think I heard the cat say ‘Wanker’ but decided to ignore it: It’s bad luck to interrupt a good whistle.
(Well, someone has to invent those old sayings.)
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