Friday, 30 January 2009

Bug-eyed Cat



I have four cats. Mother Cat, Eldest Son Cat, Youngest Son Cat, and Daughter Cat.

Daughter cat is a little ‘special’. She isn’t ‘all there’. She has massive ears and eyes and skitters about as though frightened. I think this is just her weird behaviour. So, when I want to put her outside, she runs around to get away from me. You would think, like her mother and brothers, that she’d realise that I always catch her in the end. But no, she runs every time.

Today she ran into our coat cupboard. This really gets on my nerves. I don’t want cat hairs on our coats. Inside the cupboard sits a large chest—the shoe box, as we call it. So, determined now out of anger to catch the cat, I get down on hands and knees, hang my torso over the chest, and pat around at the back for the cat, all the while ranting, “I’ll bloody find you, you know. Out! Come on, bloody get OUT!”

The cupboard doors are slim. One is always shut, so I’d squeezed into the space created by one door being open. Dark as feck in that cupboard. I batted around hoping to find fur and pick her up. As she doesn’t have a bell on her collar like the other cats (it drove her mad, and she kept trying to bite it off. I told you she’s weird), I couldn’t hear when she moved. But I felt her. Oh yes. The little cow had been sitting at the other end of the shoe box all along. She brushed past me and the closed door. More angry now at being thwarted, I backed out of the cupboard.

Got my arse stuck.

Lovely.

After getting hot and bothered and managing to free myself as well as realising I need to go on yet another diet, I followed Weird Cat, who sauntered with smugness, into the living room. I closed the living room door so she couldn’t return to the cupboard and spent a couple of minutes chasing her around. She must be special, because she didn’t think to hide behind the sofa.

Anyway. I got hold of her, put her outside, and plan to ignore her bug-eyed silent pleas to return inside as she stares at me when I go out for my cigarette.

Yeah. No cat forces me to accept my arse is too big and gets away with it.

2 comments:

Ava James ~Romance Writer said...

God love the special kitties in all our lives. I know I love to hate mine half the time.

P.S. Glad your arse made a comeback.

M.E Ellis said...

Hahahah!

:o)