The Return Of The Killer Cat

2: Home not-so-sweet home

UH-UH! MR Houseproud!

‘Off those cushions, Tuffy. I don’t think you’re supposed to be lolling about on the sofa.’

Excuse me! Had the vicar not noticed it was me he was talking to? So what was I supposed to be doing? Mopping the floor? Tapping away on the computer? Digging the garden?

‘Tuffy! Don’t scratch the furniture.’

Hell-oooo? Whose house? His? Or mine? If I want to scratch furniture, I’ll scratch it.

Worst of all: ‘No, Tuffy! I’m not opening a fresh tin until you’ve finished this.’

I took a peek at ‘this’. It was hard. It was lumpy. It was yesterday’s grub.

And I wasn’t eating it.

I walked away. The last thing I heard was Reverend Barnham calling after me: ‘Gome back and finish your supper.’

In his dreams! I was off out. I met up with the gang – Tiger and Bella and Pusskins – and told them I hadn’t had supper. They were hungry too, so we sat on the wall and had a bit of a yowl about where to eat.

‘Fancy peeling the pepperoni off a leftover pizza?’

‘Fish without chips?’

‘I could murder a nice bit of steak.’

‘Who’s thinking stir-fried beef strips with scraped-off soy?’

In the end we went Chinese. (Love those ducks’ feet!) Tiger strolled off on a smell tour down the alley to find the right place, and then we played ‘Rip the Bags’. (We all won that one.) Before you knew it, it was a pleasant supper on the wall.

‘Very tasty.’

‘Excellent.’

‘Nice choice. We must remember to eat here more often.’

‘And generous portions. Here is a family not afraid to waste food properly.’

Unlike my friend, the vicar. Next morning he was still shoving the dried-up grub in front of me. ‘Tuffy, I’m not opening a fresh tin. If you were truly hungry, you’d eat this.’

Oh, would I? I didn’t think so.

While he was waiting, the vicar stared out of the window. ‘Look at that mess in the garden! Greasy paper wrappings! Ripped-up takeaway food cartons! And that awful yowling kept me awake for hours. Don’t think I’m letting you out again tonight.’

I might be deaf to nagging, but I have ears. Thanks for the warning, Reverend! I crept upstairs and patted at the latch on the small bathroom window until it was the way I like it: far enough down to look as if it was still closed from yesterday; far enough up for one good paw push to open it.

As for that mess in the garden – don’t knock it! It was breakfast.