TheWinds Of War…
Who was the real psychopath here – the cat or his owners?
I started cat-sitting
On my first visit to Jerry (a bit of an ironic name for a cat really – maybe part of the reason he’s so angry, I decided) things didn’t start well. Jerry was sitting in his favourite armchair and gave me a nice friendly welcoming blink as he woke and saw me.
As I leaned over to stroke him, I dropped my keys on the floor and, distracted, failed to notice he’d just started a huge open-jawed yawn.
Consequently I slipped my fingers straight into his mouth. Not a great way to introduce yourself to a cat with severe anger management issues. But, instead of the blur of teeth and claws I deserved, Jerry simply stretched, purred and brushed his furry face against my hand.
Two minutes later, in the kitchen, I accidentally poured his water bowl over his head. I was really asking for it, wasn’t I? Again I waited for Jerry to go crazy, but again there was nothing, not a flicker. He ate happily and then settled on my lap for a stroke. After three days of this perfect purry behaviour I began to wonder what Jerry’s owners were talking about.
On day four, Jerry didn’t greet me on arrival, and I finally found him sitting very still and bolt upright in an upstairs bedroom, staring
In the bathroom there was a teddy bear on the toilet!
madly into the middle distance, growling and trembling. OK, now he did look like a psychopath, but I’d seen this sort of behaviour before, and I was fairly certain Jerry was going through the aftermath of an epileptic fit. I also knew that, if I interrupted his short recovery period, he would indeed attempt to kill me.
So, not nasty after all, but a poor lad with an unfortunate medical condition. Tiptoeing away from the situation I glanced into the room’s en-suite bathroom – the whole room was entirely covered, wall to wall, in pictures of
Winston Churchill. On the toilet sat a teddy bear with a toy sub-machine gun on its lap. Sellotaped to its face was a huge cigar. I glanced back at Jerry – perhaps I’d been worried about the wrong house-member.
A few days later, braving a chat with Jerry’s owners, I discovered they’d never seen him have a fit, but often seen him convalescing and not knowing what was wrong, naturally attempted to give him a hug…
I’m happy to report that
Jerry is now on meds and all is well with his world. And, if he does fit, of course, his owners know to hold off on the hugs for a little while, lest he dismember them.
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