Prompt 11 Your current relationship
I daren’t discuss my human relationships, we know I’ll write something inappropriate, Instead I’ll tackle relationships with cats, see if I don’t get hate mail from cat lovers. Cats for us are like an accessory always had one. Can’t say I’m fond of them either.
Lazy creatures, smarter than the average bear. Daren’t move should their fur be ruffled, groom themselves till they hack up fur balls of matted clumps of who knows what. Insist on sitting on every f……g chair in the home, leaving behind an invisible nest of fur. I dare you to sit down, you will be left with your bum covered in fur (you have been pranked).
Ziggy, Tick, Tock, Ginger, Frankie, Baby, Effie and Molly Mole Pants. Enough already, no more.
Our first was a cat named Ziggy, she went missing, dad teased me relentlessly that the neighbours had taken her, cooked her and froze the remains. Those thoughts still haunt me, bastard.
The Second, Tick, we bought to Australia when we crossed the ditch, had a mate called Tock who didn’t make the grade. Tick amused us for hours. Young, not knowing any better or smug in the fact that we knew everything. A rented house, floors and one wall were adorned in these olive green carpet tiles. We would hang the cat on the wall; she would look around and wear an expression of ‘what tha’, a party trick, she would unhook herself and jump off.
We’d scoot biscuits down the cork tiled hallway, biscuits would continue to go under the closet door, Tic would plant herself head first into said door chasing the biscuits, shake it all about and go again. Opened, French doors off the living area; no deck, just a wee drop into the weeds. She chased those biscuits flung outside the door, she never learnt. Tic lived for 14 years, died a horrid death, the car won.
The council helped me, removed her from the ditch outside our house while I took the kids to playgroup.
A boy, never learned to pee outside. He eventually disappeared; I have it on good authority people down the street took him in. Yes I do feel bad.
A longhaired tabby, was Sam’s bestie. She went missing, we think hiding in next doors jungle, we imagined her, petrified, stuck in a tree as the jungle behind us was being cleared by the roaring bobcat, making ready for a subdivision.
Baby, was our favourite, stole Brittany’s mascara and eye pencils and hid them in the garden. I heard a car in the early evening, motor running outside for a while, I got up to investigate too late, they had driven away.
I received a call from the Rossmoyne vet the following morning.
‘Hello, is that Rae’, they announced who they were.
‘Yes it is, you must have baby, is she okay how is she’.
An awkward pause
‘Baby didn’t make it did she?’
Now we have two more, sisters, retrieved from down the side of a fence. First came Effie, sullen, moody, sometimes friendly when she wants something. Michael’s shadow, seriously he can do nothing alone, his own personal supervisor. Her sister, Molly Mole pants, she’s the feral one. Was to be put down by her previous owners, she scratched those children at every opportunity. Now she takes to scratching clawing us.
No more once these pass over, which will be at least another 10 years! Oh joy.
Maybe I’m just cranky, and tired of the furniture being covered in magazines. they don’t like shiny slippery stuff. Problem solvered.
Next weeks prompt, two words phrases that make you laugh