...rain pounds the
window pane. I don’t want to open my eyes. I’m so warm and fuzzy; I could
remain like this for the rest of my life. The rumbling of my stomach is quick
to subdue this whim: time for breakfast! I slowly peel back my eyelids, but the
room doesn’t want to come into focus. From what I can see, grey light is
filtering through the window; unusually drab light considering my bedroom is
south facing – wait a second, this is not my room!
Gradually the room
comes into focus - the utility room that is, where the cats sleep. Great, how
on earth did I end up here? Sleep-walking maybe? Or perhaps thanks to a night
of heavy drinking? Just to make doubly sure of where I am, I rub my eyes – but
ouch! I really aught to cut my nails. Blinking the sudden rush of tears away, I
gaze down at two tiny, black, furry paws.
I don’t believe my
eyes (although I resist the urge to rub them again). The important thing is not
to panic. Needless to say, this is exactly what I proceed to do…
…rain pounds
against the window pane. This time I really don’t want to open my eyes. A
longer deeper rumble issues from my stomach; I’m a growing kitten after all.
How could this get any worse? But of course, now I need the toilet. I make my
exit using the cat flap – straight into an horrendous downpour. Oh well, it’s
too late to turn back now.
After completing my
business without the slightest of ease, I return to the house. I am soaked to
the bone. My little escapade has done nothing to silence my belly. At least I
should have my breakfast before too long. No sooner have I thought this, than
the utility door opens, I trill with delight. However, instead of going to the
worktop, in order to prepare my breakfast, the figure enters and darts for the
back door. ‘Click’ goes the lock of the cat flap.
I make a dash for
the open utility door, but just as I make to move, another figure sidles into
the room carrying something, and quickly closes the door to prevent my escape.
I have been cornered, either way I turn the other person is behind me. Oh well,
I decide to submit to their supremacy. Despite my best efforts to the contrary,
I am bundled into the cat box.
The entire duration
of the car journey I am thrown around inside the box. Then, at the vets, a
large dog eyes me up hungrily, obviously somebody else who hasn’t had any
breakfast. Finally, the moment I have dreaded arrives; my name is called.
I am carried
through. My leg is shaved and I am stabbed with a needle, I hiss in disgust.
However I soon feel the calming effect of the sleeping cocktail entering my
veins. The final words I hear before I lose conciseness are: “He won’t be a Tom
for much longer”…
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