“What, so I’m late. Not feeling up to scratch, either, so if you keep eeyyaouing, you’re not getting your breakfast any earlier.” It’s 8.30, a reasonable time and later than usual.
“YOU HEARD ME?!”
Black cat with one eye and a tooth that goes thataway sluices itself through the former dog flap that doesn’t flap and disappears outside. He does this when I raise my voice, which is relatively often. (Relative to what, I ask myself.)
Meanwhile, I get on with the little washing up I couldn’t be bothered to do last night. Then I get my kefir together for immediate consumption, having dithered between this and a cup of tea. Then it’s the turn of the medication and
“Reeeaaooouuu,” from outside the patio door. This I recognise as sheer indignity. Count morning pill intake: eight. Right.
“Oui.Oui.” No, the cat does not speak French, it´s just a sound he makes to irritate me. Bad move this morning.
“SHADDUP, DAMN CAT!” I am not in the mood for being messed with. Black cat with the tooth going thataway hides behind the pillar in the patio. Idiot thinks I can’t see him. Idiot has to make himself visible behind the pillar because he’s blind in the wrong eye. Idiot.
Finally I get around to the cat food. Let it be understood that this not about pouring pellets into a bowl and all done. No, no.
Because of that tooth going thataway and an untreatable infection in his mouth that makes him dribble all day, every day, every where, his food is a complex chemical exercise that takes a while. (How the hell does a cat get gingivitis? I never kissed him!)
Tin of salmon-flavoured gunk from fridge. Hard pellets from miniature dustbin; stale bread from same. If he’s lucky, there’s some leftover chicken skin to be cut up into tiny bits.
First, clean bowl from yesterday. His, not mine. If it’s raining, get head wet to retrieve blue bowl.
Mix the aforesaid with a spoon used for one-eyed cat exclusively, except when I forget.
Add hot water to make it softer.
Open door carefully, quietly No, he’s there.
“Riaou! Riaou! Reeeeaaou!” The fuss for this sludge!
First thing he does is lick up the (Yuck!) ‘gravy’. This takes some time. I watch him furtively. He doesn’t know I’m there because he’s concentrating ravenously on his food.
Finally, he stops eating. I’m sure that’s burp I heard.
He knows I’m not in the best of moods, so he skivvers away onto the rooftops.
(It’s hard to have a conversation like this…) (A definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. Told you, I’m nuts!)