A dish served cold
An adorable kitten – what's not to love? Lots, according to Jack, and enough is enough…
Sitting opposite Ben in the canteen, Jack gazed covetously at his friend’s bacon sandwich. Ben rolled his eyes. “Quorn sausages? Still on that veggie kick?” “Uh-huh. Henri’s totally committed. Promised I’d support him, but it’s hard sometimes...”
Replacing the sandwich on his plate, Ben pushed it across the table. “Finish it. He’ll never know.”
“I’ll know. Thanks anyway.”
“How’s everything with Zeus? Still on his hit list?”
“Yep.” Grimacing, Jack peeled back his sleeve. Fresh puncture wounds accompanied the network of fading scratches.
Ben winced. “I wouldn’t put up with that. You’re too tolerant.”
An adorable rescue kitten, Zeus had become Jack’s nemesis. Nightly, he was forced to the edge of the bed, as Zeus sprawled between Henri and himself; one possessive paw kept on Henri, one eye focused on a nervous Jack.
He’d receive regular vicious swipes, reminding him where he stood in the pecking order.
“Has he been ‘done’?”
“Made no difference.”
“Pfft. Down to the canal with a bagful of bricks, mate…”
“That’s sick. He’s just a cat.”
But one that was making his life miserable. Jack fantasised about surrendering Zeus to a sanctuary, declaring him missing, but hadn’t the heart. Henri worshipped him.
Zeus was an adept hunter, often bringing victims indoors. Jack was now hardened to cleaning up innards. Henri, meanwhile, was unperturbed.
“It’s his nature,” he’d shrug resignedly.
Jack and Henri had married five years earlier. Henri left France after falling out with his homophobic parents. Jack had met them only once – a regrettable encounter. They had been vocal in their opinion of the couple’s “unsavoury arrangement”.
Henri’s reconciliation with his parents, particularly his bigoted father, caused several rows. Henri sulked for days after arguing;
Jack, craving harmony, always capitulated.
So when Henri announced his parents’ imminent visit, Jack’s heart plummeted.
After numerous dead-end jobs, Henri had seemingly found his niche as an illustrator.
Jack increased his mortgage to move to the countryside, hoping to nurture Henri’s creativity. Unfortunately, work had dried up.
Henri became fretful that his talent wasn’t appreciated. To boost his fragile ego, Jack humoured Henri’s every whim, even embracing vegetarianism. But as a lifelong omnivore, it had become torture. Jack began daydreaming about roast beef, crackling pork, coq-au-vin. Those delicious dishes Henri always prepared before this newfound vocation.
Latterly, Jack had developed an appreciation of nature, delighting in the array of birds visiting his garden, especially the endearingly bold robins. Whilst sufficiently well-paid to support himself and Henri, Jack’s job was soul-destroying; after a day of tedium, he relished the scenic route home to their rural idyll.
One morning, Jack awoke to shrieks. Rushing downstairs, he discovered a mutilated robin on the floor, its head suspended by a sinewy thread. Outside, its lifeless mate lay at Zeus’s feet. It was wanton destruction.
Enraged, he watched Zeus pat the bird, then slope off when it elicited no response.
Henri sighed. “He couldn’t survive in the wild without his instinct. C’est la vie…”
Bird-sightings became rare – whether avoiding Zeus, or having been gradually eliminated by him – Jack wasn’t sure.
But it saddened him that his little avian visitors were boycotting his shrubbery and fruit trees.
Zeus was driving a wedge between Jack and Henri, who made constant excuses for him. The attacks continued, but Henri wouldn’t hear of excluding Zeus from their bedroom.
Jack begrudgingly moved into the spare room, fearful of being mauled while he slept.
Ben gasped as Jack joined him for lunch, his forehead peppered with perforations, a gash travelling from one temple to his chin – all courtesy of Zeus’s fearsome front claws.
“He launched at me.”
“He could have taken your eye out…” “I know. But Henri isn’t taking it seriously.” Ben frowned. He lowered his voice. “Listen. We had rats last year. I bought this industrialstrength poison. Incredible stuff.” He winked. “You could, you know, have some…”
Jack considered the robins; the assaults; Henri’s indifference. Zeus might easily eat a poisoned rat... His pulse quickened.
“I’ll do it. Enough’s enough.”
Henri reserved the fridge’s bottom shelf for
Zeus’s meat. All clingfilm-wrapped and laid out meticulously. Jack examined the platter of lean beef. Henri insisted on Zeus having the finest they – or rather Jack – could afford. Apparently, raw meat best-suited the digestive system of a cat.
Jack smiled inwardly. Good things come to those who wait.
The dreaded parental visit was upon them.
Arriving home, Jack found Henri’s father’s car occupying his space. He watched his in-laws in the dining-room through the window, raising glasses. Henri’s pompous father, bloated cheeks bulging, was laughing. With a painted-on smile, Jack entered the kitchen.
Henri appeared immediately. “Where’ve you been? My parents were starving, so we’ve already eaten.”
“It’s fine. Sorry I’m late.” He inhaled deeply. “What’s cooking?”
Henri looked sheepish. “I’ve made you melanzane, but Papa hates vegetarian cuisine so we’ve had steak tartare – their favourite. Just to keep them sweet!”
Zeus sauntered in, studying his bowl. Jack’s stomach lurched. “Where’s Zeus’s beef?” “I defrosted him some liver. The steak tartare was exquisite.” He pouted. “Don’t be cross with me. It is a special occasion…”
Jack’s chest tightened and he stumbled outside, almost squashing an enormous headless rat, entrails draped across the step. Hearing laughter from within, he shuddered.
A scream and ensuing torrent of angry French stopped Jack in his tracks. The door flung wide, and a startled Zeus was ejected unceremoniously on to the lawn. Furious, Henri stood, brushing off his hands.
“He attacked Papa!”
Jack stared at Henri incredulously, then he turned and headed towards his car.
“Chéri? We have guests…”
“I fancy a curry. Don’t wait up.”
Driving into town, Jack inspected his wounds in the rear-view mirror. One thought entered his head.
What goes around, comes around…
A grin spread slowly across his face. Throwing back his head, he began to laugh.
And he was still laughing as he tucked into a delicious lamb bhuna an hour later.
Zeus was
driving a wedge between Jack and
Henri