“Yeah… I will… Love you too…Bye now.”
“That was the girlfriend.” I said, putting down the phone.
The cat yawned.
“She sends her regards.”
The cat looked at me.
“Okay. She gave me a recipe for cat casserole.”
The cat yawned again. Then it started to wash itself. If more cars would do the same, maybe then I’d buy one. What’s more, most cars didn’t bite the hand that poured the petrol – unlike cats, or crocs.
Like the old Jewish Resistance Movement, I mused what the Romans – or in my specific case: my cat – had ever done for us. Unlike the hapless Jewish Resistance Movement I found it hard to come up with anything, except abuse, hairballs and vomit with interesting bits in it.
Why do people take cats?
It’s not as if they are highly desirable assets. People steal cars, houses, jewelry, bikes, library books, babies and, God help us, even mobile phones. I couldn’t remember ever having read anything about people getting angry about the rising theft of cats.
If only I had a car… Then I could lock the cat inside each day, when I got up, and hope someone would have stolen the car by the time I’d go to bed again.
Hell, I’d even be willing to buy a mobile phone, if tying the cat to it meant that both would get nicked. Though one could only hope the thieves would know better what to do with the stolen ware than other mobile muggers in the past had done.
Or maybe I should just do as the girlfriend suggested.
“You want something from town?” I asked the cat.
The cat looked at me.
“I need something larger in the oven-ware department. So, you got any last requests?”
“Go boil your head.” the cat said, before leaving the room through the huff side of the cat flap.
“Better be careful out there.” I said – but the cat, like Elvis, had left the building.
Unlike the late, lamented lard-arse, the cat probably would not be worth a king’s ransom, if there were any cat-nappers around.
“And more’s the pity.” I mumbled, before entering a daydream, that featured the girlfriend and me (and a cast of no clothes) in one of those outdoors Japanese baths.
High above, stars twinkled at us and sang old Elvis songs (almost inaudibly, praise the Lord of Song) before one of them morphed into an honest to God spaceship that descended like a mighty sparrow and then flew off with the cat (hopefully to do all kinds of interesting and painful experiments on the little monster moggie.)
The last thing the girlfriend and I heard – before we lost ourselves in yet another breath-defying kiss, was the fading scream of the cat:
You baaasssstaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrds……!!!!!!
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