© 2007-2016

© 2007-2016
G@tto: On SALE in South Sardinia

April 02, 2008

Bev sent me a short, true, feline story...

Who said cats aren't dumb ?

A short true story by Bev.
Lazing on the couch and bang, crash, bang ! What’s exploding in the kitchen ?
The washing up machine isn’t on and had seen Tessa streaking past so knew she
wasn’t up to anything.
Rushed in and see this tabby cat throwing itself at the kitchen
window, falling off and taking picture frames, cake tins etc with it.
Then, it runs back a bit farther from the window and leaps once again into the glass
- more clangs as other things fall to floor with cat.
I open the bay windows in the lounge
and manage to chase the cat out that way just as it’s getting ready for its next leap.

Later am ensconced in bed with the two furry purries asleep in contented dreaming
balls. Turn out the light and snuggle down.
Bang, crash, bang… I leap up, cats’ heads
rise. Cats followed by me descend to inspect the commotion.
Tessa sees that
daft cat again and goes streaking upstairs to the safety of her bed (well mine
actually). Toby having gone into the lounge only sees a streak and runs up after.

Once again I am confronted with a flying cat who doesn’t seem to realise one
can’t fly through glass (although he should do, it’s at least a month since we
cleaned the windows!).
It runs out of kitchen just as I open the terrace doors.
However, it seems to me that the streak went downstairs and not out into the
I creep into the office in the basement and these eyes stare at me from
a shelf. As I advance the hissing gets angrier and angrier.
“Well, we’ll try food”
I think and go to collect some biscuits.
Tessa, having got up tremendous courage follows me down to add to my problems.

I chase off Tessa and approach gingerly with outstretched dish.
Hiss, hiss, whack, whack. It jumps up in air and runs madly for the door.
Being a daft
cat, it can’t tell the difference between an open glass door and a closed one so goes
flying into the door on the right – the one that is shut of course.

Toby arrives. “This is my house” he screams and lunges. Fur is flying.
I yell for René
who comes grumbling down ‘cos I woke him up. “Can’t you see there’s a cat fight?”
I cry.
At the commotion Toby backs off and this very dumb cat runs back into the kitchen
and crouches under the table staring at us.
René tries to move him to the cat door with
a broom. Cat teeth and claws attach themselves to the broom and then let go and the
orbital cat goes for the window again, this time landing on the radiator with the electric
toaster. So, that doesn’t work.
We open the window avoiding flying claws and try again
but now the window is open it does want to go through it anymore.
After much (dangerous) effort René manages to get it thru the cat door.
Well, it shouldn’t be back so René, Tessa and I go back to bed but Toby keeps watch.

The next evening Tessa comes to the couch where we are both sitting and we think
she wants a cuddle but she gives a fearful look towards the glass doors.
Yes, that dumb
cat is back in the garden !

We see it off and haven’t seen it since, but then it’s only been two days and a cat that
is so dumb it can’t figure out that if you come in thru a cat door maybe it’s the best way
out, can’t be relied upon to think that maybe our garden isn’t the best place for it.

I checked Toby over and sweet blue eyes hadn’t lost a hair. It’s more than I can say for
the dumb (but very pretty) tabby. We’re still sweeping up !

Well, I say that that is one dumb cat.


A. said...

Toby and Tessa are beautiful! Birman?

G@ttoGiallo said...

Yep, I think so.
And... thank you for your novel, Bev !

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