Writings: a collection of online writings

writings of a writing man

In the dog house

In which Harry Cat gives me a frosty time

I'm in the dog house again. Well, really, it's the cat house but I can't say that because I understand the expression has a different meaning in San Francisco. Let's for the sake of convenience and the avoidance of confusion leave it at the dog house.

It started this morning as most things do around here. I stumbled out of bed at the first beep of the alarm, turned the heating up to its day-time level, and shuffled into the kitchen to get my first coffee of the day. Mug in hand, I stood as I always do at the sink and looked out at the frosty garden just getting it's first light of the day. "Mmm. Chilly," I muttered.

Then, I realized there was something missing. No, not a nice slice of buttered toast. That comes later in the ritual. Nope, it was Cat. No Cat. By this time little Harry, terror of the local mice, should be rubbing around my ankles and yowling to be let out.

He was sitting at the door, gazing out the glass, silent. Oh well, change of routine. So I pulled the door open, letting in a blast of cold air. Harry was not amused. He shrank away, then leant forward, then shrank away, then looked at me, then poked his head through the gap and stood there indecisive. Too cold, perhaps?

Now, I don't know about you, but I've found that, in the main, a cat in this position is best helped along a little. Otherwise the same ritual's going to have to be repeated at every door in the house, in case one of them should open on to summer. So, foot positioned appropriately, a gentle nudge propelled him into decisive action and off he trotted.

I closed the door and went back to the sink. There, outside, huffing white cat-breath into the morning, was a cross puss-cat. He glared at me, lifted his tail, and trotted off out of sight. You can't win all the time. He'll come round.

So. Off to the study, click on the computer and look at my list of tasks for the day.

Strange coincidence. Item five: Worm Cat. Item six: De-flea Cat. Oh dear. Have those jobs come round again? And on the same day?

Half an hour went by and I got to that point where nothing was going to happen until I had another mug of coffee.

Back to the kitchen, to find Harry Cat sitting outside the door looking in. Angry. "Oh, you poor old thing, you. Come on in and I'll breakfast you."

But there was to be no reconciliation. Oh no. Silence. Even when the bowl was being filled, no cold fur being rubbed round ankles, no familiar yowl. Just silence. And that glare.

Harry retired to his warm spot next to the range and I to the study, thinking not a lot of it to be honest.

But, each time during the morning I came back to the kitchen, I got the same cold treatment.

By the time I came to sit down to lunch, Harry had decided I'd had enough punishment and treated me almost normally. He asked politely to be let out again and, on his return, phrrmphed at me until I gave him a drop of my yoghurt for his treat. Almost said thanks but not quite. And so we went back to our chores, me to writing, he to guard the range.

Mid-afternoon. Items five and six come to the top of the list.

Now, shoving a pill down a cat's throat and then dousing him with herbal flea lotion is not the most wonderful of things to do, nor to witness, so we'll let time's winged whatsit gloss over the detail. Suffice it to say, there was the normal struggle, the usual battle and howls, and I won, as always, but only because I'm bigger than him and, in a good cause, even more bloody-minded.

Job done, I put him down on the mat, said what a good cat he was, how brave, how handsome... No go. Harry sat there, glaring. "How's about a nice little treat for our afternoon snack, then?" Nothing. Just that awful cold, bottomless stare. I reached down a hand to attempt to make friends, only to have the little beast turn away and sit with his back to me.

And now, at the end of the afternoon, we're still here and I'm still suffering. I'm sitting with a nice cup of tea and two Bourbon biscuits and Harry is sitting over there, back firmly to the fore. He's had enough. This has been a bad cat day. I'm going to suffer for it. He's putting his foot down firmly with all four paws.

Do you know? I'm going to be glad when the other Human gets home for tea. It'll be nice to have someone to talk to. It's chilly round here today. Frosty, even.

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