Monday, 23 January 2012

Can they?

"Oh, ho." Bear muttered, looking up from her keyboard.

We have two cats - oh, aright then, three if you count Sparkle, who refuses to go home.

One dog, and we were dog-sitting my daughters woofler. Our next door neighbour has four cats.
That's helluva lotta cats. We don't see them much, cats being cats, and never, ever together, cat society being as it is.

The males and females tend to avoid each other, the older ones only just put up the the young 'uns, and the Young Guns are out-gunned by the ladies.

I looked up from the notes I was jotting down. "Oh ho!" indeed.

Lined up in front of me were the three cats, sat side by side. Behind them, equally upright, heads to one side, ears perked were the two dogs. Staring at me intently.

"Look" said The Bear. I was.

On the front windowsill, three of next-doors cats were pacing, occasionally stretching towards a window I normally keep ajar, meowing. On the rear windowsill, (we live in a 'sunshine house') neighbour cat number four seemed to doing gymnastics.

As I glanced around, it disappeared only to join its compadré's at the front.

Four Cats, sat in a line, on the windowsill, staring intently.

Three cats, at my feet, in a line, staring intently.

Two dogs behind them...... well, you get the picture.

"Hitchcock" said Bear. "Really?" I said slowly and carefully "I was thinking more Steven King or James Herbert"

I stared back at, well, at least in my experience, a remarkable display of cross species cooperation. "Dray, it's you. And it's creepy"

"Errr... wassup guys?" I offered. Nothing. Not a sausage. I was wondering whether to put on a silly hat and twist some party balloons or something (don't ask, I'm not saying). I turned my head towards the window, mesmerized, followed by 6 sets of eyes. Back again.

Five minutes later, five whole minutes, Bear reached a decision. "Sod it. Scat you lot. Now will you let me make that Doctors appointment?"

One by one, they melted away, except for old-girl cat Sniff, who jumped on knee, purring and rubbing her whiskers against my beard.

Oh, come on? They can't be serious?

Can they?

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