Monday night with cats
We have a fairly regular visitor to the house. Several evenings a week a black and white cat will drop by, eat our cat’s food and bolt for the kitchen cat flap as soon as we spot it.
Last night I was sitting on the floor of the front room watching a tense, if badly scripted episode of ‘Spooks.’ I looked to my left and noticed black and white cat chowing down. I decided to chase the little beast out. It, being a cat, moved faster and shot back to the kitchen. Unfortunately it had forgotten the heavy curtain, covering the cat flap (which it must have eased past on its way in). I arrived to see it hit the curtain head on, spin around, run up the curtain and then throw itself behind the fridge, knocking everything from the top and even switching the kitchen light off in the process.
Not wanting to share a room with a manic cat I shut the door and slipped out of the house to free it from the outside. Standing in the outhouse, in the pitch black of night I edged cautiously to the door. I stopped and could hear, no, feel a loud purring. I went cold (partly because it was freezing out there) my imagination conjuring pictures of a curled, mad cat, ready to pounce. Possibly ready to scratch me to shreds while escaping. It was the devil cat and I just wanted to let the damn thing go.
I stopped breathing and tried to concentrate on exactly where the purring was coming from.
It was coming from the street. It was a bus.
When I got back inside the cat was nowhere to be found. Maybe it’s in the fridge.