As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some months ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
This is Chester. He’s unimpressed with the fact it’s father’s day.
Because, it seems, we have never given him the opportunity to become a father.
It’s an interesting point, but one that requires an explanation. In fact, the serious expression, bordering on smoke coming out of his ears, demands one.
Firstly, if I let you out the chances are you will become roadkill. We’ve had this argument before, a number of times, and that it is not safe outside the confines of this house.
And if I promise not to stray…
I laugh. A cat cannot promise anything, because, well, you’re a cat. That’s what cats do, stray, wander, play chicken with cars, fight with other male cats for practically no reason at all, and worse, chase after any female cat that’s on heat.
I’m not like those other cats, he says. Also, he seems amused by that expression, on heat.
It’s hard to explain, but you’ll hear it before you see it, I say.
And then there’s that look of recognition. We’ve had a few female cats wandering the streets lately that have caused him to become very restless, and make strange guttural sounds.
So, he says, I’m not likely to become a father?
Maybe, I say, if he behaves himself, eats what is put in front of him, and use the litter properly instead of a general target, and stop using plastic bags as an alternate litter.
Yes, finally, a guilty look crosses his face.
I think I just found some leverage.