500 words a day

627 words 17th august 2009

A few weeks ago the idea of talking cats and dogs would have been, obviously, absurd. Now he was almost growing accustomed to it. Well maybe that was an exaggeration. He did still jump first thing in the morning when Grenville, his ginger cat greeted him with a deep


‘Morning’  and followed it up with a demand for breakfast.


‘Pleeeeeeeease’ he always added in that strange almost purr-like voice of his. What was interesting was that he was nothing like he imagined he would be. Not that he imagined he could talk, ever, but as with most per owners, he tended to project human traits onto him. When Janine was round he’d often say. Look he’s trying to impress you, he always shows ff when you come round. Or , making comments about him being shy and imagining him to be a quite anxious and timid sort of a cattish personality.


Actually, he was a bit of a cocky sod. He seemed to think he was the most attractive and intelligent cat in the world, certainly in the neighbourhood. I’m sick of all these plebs, he’d often say coming through the cat flap after a long time outside. You just can’t talk to them. All they want to do is drink milk, shag and talk about free food. I mean the shagging’s pretty good, like a bit of rough from time to time, but honestly, it would be nice to have a decent conversation once in a while.


Apparently, he had very little male competition nearby – they were all a bit in-bred, he reckoned, apart from that big old black cat at number 44, but he was past it now, poor old sod, bit of a looker still though. Lucky for me, he said, that he’s not in his prime or we’d have to engage in all that tedious battling over the territory nonsense.


So there was that to get used to and he hadn’t really got close to it yet, just about coming round to the idea that he wasn’t psychotic, but still not a hundred percent clear on that yet. What made it difficult was that he never spoke in front of anyone else, had to keep a low profile apparently, can’t have to many humans knowing, after all if they knew, I‘m not so sure we’d be able to get them to keep on with the free board and lodgings with all meals included, situation.


He tried to persuade him just to let her know, but he wouldn’t do it. The thing that broke the cycle was that she came round last week with her dog, Rufus. Great big dumb old Labrador, or so they imagined. It turned out though he was a bit of an academic, equivalent to a professor he said. They’d found out about it by accident. He and Grenville were close friends, had been for all the time since Janine had been bringing him round. They made a big show of not liking each other of course, keeping up appearances. Rufus would chase Grenville out into the garden where they could then go round the back of the shed so no one could se them, and have a good old chat. Turned out they had  a lot in common. One time though, they didn’t know that he was in the shed, writing, he was trying out a new location. Janine had let herself in and she let Rufus chase Grenville as usual. Next thing he heard was them talking about university, comparing notes.


He ran in to tell Janine and she said, oh thank God you know, I couldn’t bring it up with you I thought you’d think I was mad, the little bugger didn’t tell me about Grenville though.











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Steve Wybourn





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