Chapter 20: Wills gets a medal in recognition for his caring duties

As time has gone on and I’ve settled into Tom Cat Towers, I have developed a bit of a routine with my human. She is rather simple so has been easy to train.

Each time she is in the kitchen I follow her and keep an eye on her as she prepares human food. I make my presence known by opening my mouth as wide as possible, even though no sound comes out. I paddle round in circles, fall over now and again and then generally get under her feet.

This will inevitably result in some scrap or sliver of something really tasty being handed down to me to sniff, if only to make me go away for a while! She has to be very patient as my head nods up and down uncontrollably as I concentrate on what is being offered. I haven’t found anything yet that I haven’t tried that I have turned my nose up!

Cheese is my favourite. My parade goes into overdrive when cheese is brought out of the fridge. I panic that the human hasn’t seen me, and because I can’t meow I worry that she doesn’t know I’m there so I really clump around and goose step on the carpet till I’m given a treat.  If she’s slobbing out in front of the TV with a bottle of red wine and a chunk of cheese, I’m on her footrest giving her a very hard glare.

The kitchen is a real hot spot for food, cat food and the stuff the human eats. If I hear the kitchen door open, I’m instantly awake and wobbling my way in there as fast as I can. The human needs a helper in case anything falls on the floor and needs a fluffy mouth to Hoover it up!

Wills joins in when we are in the kitchen and it’s a wonder the human doesn’t fall over one of us and do some damage to herself.

The ginger gut truck makes more than enough noise for both of us as he pathetically squeaks, cries and begs like a poor starved orphan of the storm, whilst whipping her legs with his tail as he minces round.

The human seems to find working with food quite therapeutic as all sorts of wonderful cooking smells fill the kitchen and little samples come my way! She has the radio on and sings along to me, I sometimes join in by purring.

I am given small ‘tasters’ of the end results when the cooking is over as I just love human food! The human, very seriously, asks me what I think and every single thing gets the paws up from me as I lick my whiskers in anticipation of more!!

If I'm really lucky I get to lick a bowl out. That is the high point of my day! I can really get my tongue round all the little bits and slurp them off the bowl, Bliss!

Many years ago my human was awarded a large bronze medal by the BBC for sea fish cuisine. She then went on to win the BBC Campaign for Great British Food.

One afternoon after a really industrial session cooking in the kitchen, she got the bronze medal out of its box and placed it round the ginger twit's neck. He puffs up with pride as he sits there proudly showing it off. I’m so glad he isn’t allowed outside wearing it. The birds would fall out of the trees laughing hysterically at him!!

He looks like a complete berk! I'm ashamed to be seen with him when he has this bling dangling round his neck.

Willi’s version

I don’t know why I make the effort to trundle into the kitchen when the human is cooking as I only really like cat food.

More of an entertainment value really, and I don’t want to miss out just in case there is the off-chance something fabulous with my name on. The radio is on and the human sings quite tunelessly as she works away. Dippi comes in to the kitchen begging furiously and shamelessly for food.

At last, I have been recognisedfor my work as a full time carer to Dippi. The human has invested me with the ultimate accolade; a huge bronze medal, inscribed with writing which must, although I can’t read, extol my ultimate virtue as a full time selfless career carer.

It hangs around my neck on a coloured ribbon. If I could blush with pride I would have done, but sadly fur covers my face.

The medal rested against my chest and I bubbled over with pride as I looked down on Dippi. It glittered as it caught the sunshine on the metal. I so wanted to parade round the garden with it on so the other cats in the neighbourhoodwould be impressed with my status symbol.

(Not that I like to blow my own trumpet of course). But the human wouldn’t let me outside. So it’s only Dippi who knows that I have been rewarded for my completely tireless and very high standards of duty of care towards her. I know she will be proud of me.

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