Memories of the conversations with my cat – 81

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.  Today we’re looking at the tennis.

Well, I’m looking at the tennis, and he’s pontificating over the climate change crisis.

I’m not sure if he actually knows what climate change is all about because I seem to be missing the point.

Down here where fires are raging in various parts of the country, it seems that everyone wants to jump on the climate change bandwagon, looking for something or someone to blame.

Yes, the Prine Minister has copped his fair share, because it seems he doesn’t quite agree there is such a thing, but that seems to be the mantra of any conservative political party because at their heart is the promise to benefit industry rather than what’s best for the people.

This seems to be Chester’s view too but slightly amended to include the cats.

If only cats could vote!

That thought, of course, scares the living daylights out of me, because as you know we belong to cats, not the other way around.

Would we all become slaves?

“Aren’t you already?  It seems to me nothing will change.”

So how did this conversation veer off the path of tennis, to climate change, to voting, to slaves?

This is like being at a party with too much alcohol flowing.

Come to think of it, there is a half bottle of scotch missing, and Chester has been acting strange lately…



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