Near the end of the dining table
one dining chair has an excellent
view through the kitchen into the
laundry, an excellent position for
the cat to monitor his food bowl.
Some days he starts at afternoon
tea time though he is not fed
until family dinner time, a practice
begun back when two lively kittens
would leap on to small girls’ laps
demanding food with menaces.
The tabby hunter walked down the
drive one Sunday morning, never
returned. Still the black ad white
cat continues their old routines.
One afternoon a week Auntie Jo
does maths with the eight year old
at the dining table, sitting on his
chair. On a drizzly afternoon he
wants that chair, leaps on to the
seat, crams himself in behind her.
She feels him pushing, reaches
behind her to feel soft silky fur
very damp soft silky fur !
Urk !! He has his revenge !