They say “while the cat’s away, the mice will play” but nobody seems bothered about what the cat gets up to when the owners bugger off on their jollies for a month. It’s been a week since I was left with The Sitter and so far she’s not really falling for any of my cunning attempts to wind her up.
After much discussion with my pals down at Cabal Cats, I thought I’d ease her in with the tried and tested “Miaowing outside the bedroom door at Stupid O’Clock”, just to establish who was boss around here. Unfortunately, aside from the first night (when I definitely hit a nerve), there has been abject silence in that department, which was disappointing as that trick usually keeps me amused for at least four or five nights.
By Wednesday, I was genuinely fearful that The Sitter was getting a little bit too comfortable for my liking, so it was time to step things up a gear. Bert, down the road, suggested walking over the laptop keyboard as she tries to work, which drives his owner insane, apparently, but that wouldn’t have worked in my case because The Sitter doesn’t appear to work much, at least not when I’m around, anyway.
Instead, I bided my time and observed her daily routines so I could find a weak spot. I didn’t have long to wait. At around 3 o’clock every afternoon, she closes the laptop after playing lots of games, then goes out for a march around Oxtonshire. Before she leaves, she puts two black things in her ears, fiddles with her phone, then starts singing, badly, as she flounces out of the door. When she gets back, usually out of breath and sweating like a Doberman, she’s still singing, but that stops the moment she removes the black things and begins making a pot of some disgusting orange concoction she calls “magic tea”. A-ha, I thought, so these little black things appear essential tools for completing her afternoon excursions, so wouldn’t it be fun to, like, hide them or, better still still, destroy them, and see what happens?
I revealed my plan to Bert, who was a bit annoyed that he’d not thought of it himself, and we agreed that it was worth a try. After she’d gone to bed, then, at some ridiculously early time, I crept into the kitchen and leaped onto the table where I knew she kept the black things, and had a bit of a play. In no time at all I’d lost myself in a frenzy of wiry excitement and made a mental note to search out similar toys which must surely be lying around the house. When I was sure there was no more damage to inflict, I finished every scrap of food in my bowl just in case the consequences of my actions resulted in a punishment of starvation. Then I had a lovely 10-hour sleep on the radiator in the conservatory. I was knackered!
Next day, I was awake and ready for The Sitter to surface, which she did around 8am. I waited, and waited, desperate to see the look on her face when she realised her black things were now ex-black things, but she was totally oblivious as she went about her day. I even tried luring her to the kitchen table with my snake-on-a-stick toy which she likes to tickle me with, but she just wasn’t having it. Bert came round to see if I wanted to go and cause trouble on Kings Mount, but I was adamant I wasn’t going anywhere until ‘the discovery’ was made, which duly happened at 3 o’clock on the dot.
Seriously, I’ve never laughed so hard in ages. I’d left the black things in a shredded heap under the table, and watching her walk round and round the kitchen looking for them was hilarious to me. I followed her, my face an absolute picture of innocence, and I even brushed up against her leg with faux affection as she began talking to herself, accusing something called a ‘poltergeist’ of moving her possessions. Then she saw them lying horribly mutilated on the floor and it was all I could do not to wee myself there and then, it was brilliant! Standing there, hands on her hips, trying to project an air of authority, her face as stern and solemn as a vet who’s about to stick a thermometer up my bottom…well, you had to be there, really.
She still went out for a walk but she wasn’t out for nearly as long as she normally is. She didn’t sing, either, which was a bloody relief, I can tell you, so if that’s the price of peace and quiet around here, it was worth it. I lay low for the rest of the week, although I made a point of being extra friendly when it was Dreamie-time, just to score some Brownie points. Humans go all soft for a pair of big green eyes and a leg rub. Suckers.
I have a few more cunning plans hiding up my paws but, for the moment, I am content to just quietly stay in the background and wait for her to drop her guard, which might take a while as, right now, she seems to want to know where I am every minute of every day. Stalker!