GeorgeSo, here’s the thing. I was sitting on the green mat thing by the front door. I had scratched it a bit first which is probably what alerted the woman that Casey calls ‘Mum’ to what I was doing. She came rushing up the hallway.

“George,” she said to me, “are you doing a wee?”

I couldn’t answer at the time because I was in the middle of doing a wee; I haven’t learned to multi-task yet so the answer to her question had to wait. I hadn’t been to the toilet for quite a while so it took me some time to complete my task but she hovered nearby with a funny look on her face.

Attempting to scratch the mat thing after I’d finished she tried to scoop me up but I was too quick for her. I ran down that hallway, through the dining room, into the kitchen where I halted by my dish, ever hopeful of a refill.

“Not this time, young man!” she said, her face a strange shade of red. She opened the back door and I was ushered through. “Jeez, I only peed on the green mat thing.”

The door shut and I was on the wrong side of it. I stretched out on the decking. People are so fickle, aren’t they? I thought she was nice but she’s shown her true colours – red – in this case.

A big fat bumble bee buzzed nearby, drinking nectar from the plants. “Hi George,” he buzzed, “you’ve been a naughty boy again, haven’t you?”

“Can’t a cat have any secrets?” I demanded, trying to swat the thing.

“ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ” he buzzed, “now don’t be silly George. This lady is being kind to you. She has a good reputation among the feline fraternity and anyone in need always knows to go to her back door and she never refuses to give any deserving soul some food. So don’t spoil it for the rest of them.”

The bee had a point, damn him. He was right, blast him. I would lie low and hope that if I slunk back later and perhaps gave her a gentle headbutt, she’d forgive me and we could start again. 

I couldn’t afford to let this opportunity go; I had finally landed on my feet after months of trailing from house to house and being kicked out for my troubles. She had indulged my penchant for food, lots of it, and spoke to me in a soft, kind voice.

Casey was no trouble; he always moved away from his food bowl when I stood nearby so that I could finish up his leftovers as well. Whether he intended them to be leftovers is debatable, but he was an amenable sort of chap. So I didn’t want to fall out of favour with the red-faced lady and her pliant cat because when a cat is down on his luck, he needs all the friends he can get.  


In the Middle of a World...

"In the middle of a world that has always been a bit mad, the cat walks with confidence."

Roseanne Anderson

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