journal of a writing man

writings of a writing man

Normal hostility has been resumed

Dolly says: You'll pay for that...

Dolly the Mega Cat and I were sitting on and at the kitchen table late yesterday evening, when we heard a muffled thud from the study and then a shaky feline plod along the hall as Harry woke and came through to see what was going on. Dolly looked at me. I looked at her. We both looked at Harry. Harry plomped himself on the rug in the middle of the floor, gave us a glare, and started in on his wake up clean.

So far, so good. Nothing too unusual about it. Perhaps Harry had dozed later than normal but we'd all done that after M___'s visit. Neither cat is fond of M___ and, on her arrival Dolly had taken up a defensive position on the dresser in the hall and Harry had run to hide under the duvet. Now they were back in their usual places. For a moment it looked as though our comfortable steady state was going to re-establish itself without further drama or upset.

Until the rug attacked Harry. Unprovoked, out of the blue, it up and attacked him. He leapt into action like a wild exocet missile and proceeded to chase the treacherous floor covering into the far corner, yowling at the top of his voice all the while.

Dolly and I exchanged uneasy glances.

Wrestling the rug to a fall took a few moments, leaving Harry huffing and puffing and wild eyed. Oh dear. A random energy particle had found its way into our kitchen to lodge in Harry's furry head. Next thing, before we could say a word, the tea-towel on the rail by the sink slipped slowly down to fall at Harry's feet. This was too much. Everything in the house was obviously out to get him.

The tea-towel received a jolly good hiding for its arrogance and Harry was on the rampage, looking for something else to kill.

Dolly unwisely chose that precise moment to jump down to the floor, alarmed and curious all at the same time, perhaps thinking that Harry might need some help. HAH! Harry launched himself at her, bowled her over, and rushed off into the dark, daring her to follow him. And she did, of course.

The noise was horrendous. Screaming and howling and banging and crashing and then, for a long, long moment... silence. I couldn't see what was happening but I knew full well that Dolly was prone on the floor, feet in the air, and a blazing-eyed Harry was standing over her, daring her to make a move.

I know what happens next, too. Completely without any visual cue, as if nothing has happened, Dolly gets up, gives herself a good shake, and they touch noses and make up. First time this drama played itself out I was alarmed for little Harry - he was about half Dolly's size. Now he's the same size but Dolly has almost doubled in length and weight. Makes no difference, Harry's the boss cat, the leader of the two-cat pack.

So when they padded back to me in the kitchen a few minutes later, smiling sweetly, the best of friends, and each hoping for a late supper to make up for their moment of supreme defensive effort, I was ready to play my part in the game.

"Hi, guys. How's about a drop of nice warm Carnation milk after all that hard work?"

Harry shouldered Dolly aside to take his place, first in the queue.

I caught Dolly's eye. She gave me an amused sideways look then turned her gaze down, half fondly, to let Harry have his way. He'll pay for his outrageous behaviour, that much is certain, but not today. Normal relations were restored in our little wooden house.

January 9, 1999

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