The Killer Cat Strikes Back

3: One little biff

OKAY, OKAY. SO clip my claws. I scratched the cat to pieces. For pity’s sake! If anyone had the right to scratch that painted cat’s eyes out, it was me.

And it was an accident. All I did was put out one of my sweet little paws to give the painting one little biff. Just to make myself feel better about it, you could say. How could you argue it was my fault that one of my claws caught in the thread of the canvas?

And got stuck.

No one could blame me for trying to pull my own paw free.

Over and over…

The picture did end up looking a bit of a mess, I have to admit. But I felt a whole lot better.

I sat on the wall outside and waited. The explosion came soon enough.

‘Look at this mess! My “Portrait of Tuffy” has been torn to bits!’

‘It’s in shreds! There are bits of painting all over the carpet!’

‘Not just on the carpet! Isn’t that a painted ear up on the dresser?’

‘And a bit of tail hanging off that lamp?’

‘I’ve found a paw on the window sill!’ wailed Ellie.

Oh, I certainly spread that ‘Portrait of Tuffy’ about. If anyone was ever going to hang what was left of it on the wall again, they’d have to give it a new name.

They’d have to call it ‘Battle’s End’. And guess who won?

Ellie picked up the frame with all the stringy bits hanging down. ‘Tuffy!’ she scolded as sternly as she could. ‘Look what you’ve done to Mummy’s very first painting! You’ve destroyed it.’

What a tragedy – I don’t think. And if you want my opinion, they won’t be howling with grief down at the Art Gallery, either, when they hear the news. Ellie’s mother might be clever enough to bring a dead car back to life for long enough to drive to her art class and back, but she can’t paint for toffee.

I can paint better than she can with my paws. And next time she leaves one of her nice new expensive blank white canvases about, I might just prove it to her.

Oh, yes. Indeed I might.