The Killer Cat Runs Away

5

A Chapter of Sad Farewells

I went around saying fond farewells to all the things I’ve loved so long.

‘Goodbye, dear Pot Plant,’ I said. ‘I expect that you’ll miss me scratching around in your soil when it’s too cold and wet for me to bother to go outside to do my business.’ I brushed away a tear. ‘And I shall miss you too.’

I went into the kitchen.

‘Adieu, my beloved Frying Pan,’ I sighed. ‘How many times have I stood beside you on the counter, licking your leftover bacon fat when no one else was about! We have been friends for so long, Frying Pan. But this is the end.’

I went upstairs.

‘This is the parting of the ways,’ I told Alarm Clock. ‘But we have shared so many happy moments. How often I have crept in here by moonlight when Mr I-Must-Not-Be-Late has set you carefully for seven o’clock. How often I have braved his rattling snores to jump on the bedside table and reach out a silent paw to push your ON button to OFF. And how the two of us have enjoyed his desperate shrieks of panic when he wakes late in the morning. Oh, I shall miss you, Alarm Clock!’

I slid under Mr I-Do-Not-Snore-I-Just-Breathe-Heavily’s side of the bed.

‘So long, Bedroom Slippers,’ I said. ‘If I had a single tear for every dead mouse I’ve slipped into your toes to frighten Mr Oh-My-Lord-What’s-This?, then I could weep a river to say goodbye to you. Please don’t feel lonely and neglected without my little gifts. Goodbye! Goodbye!’

I went downstairs to the piano.

‘Adios, my musical friend! After today I shall walk up and down your keys no more, making you plink and plunk and driving everyone mad. Our happy hours are over. I’m off into the world, and we shall sadly never finish our masterwork: The Tuffy Piano Concerto for Four Paws.’

I thought it would be nice to leave with that sweet tune still ringing in my ears. So I walked up and down the keys a bit. (I like to stick to the black ones. They sound more plinky-plunky. And every time one of my paws slides off onto a white key, I tend to get a little cross, and stamp.)

‘What is that dreadful noise?’

Whoops! Mr Not-At-All-Musical poked his head round the door. ‘You! Well, you can get off that piano at once!’

He pushed me off. I hate that, so I spun round in the air on my way down and scratched him hard.

‘Yeee-ouch!’

He glared at me, and I glared back at him.

That is one person in this house to whom I won’t be saying any fond farewell.