Wednesday, 15 October 2008

Commandant Cat

Feeding them this morning, the small one noticed I had opened the last tin. The Last TIN

She is small but she has very round eyes that dilate fully to complete blackness. If she had a brow she would be capable of raising it beyond her ears when perturbed about something. Very effective.

She also "talks" constantly. Some have said she runs around the house shrieking "Milk! Milk" ( I rarely give them any - but guests might not know that -so she tries her command) I think more often than not it sounds like " Now! Now!" It's loud too.

Today the Last TIN was clearly not what she wanted to see. The heavy enormous bag of biscuits was no source of consolation at all. She wanted to know that there would be more wet food after today.

So with her shrieks ringing in my ear I left the house knowing I had just 3 things to remember;
Milk (for me), Toilet rolls (for all bipeds) but most importantly, Wet cat Food. Remember Milk, Toilet rolls and Wet Cat Food.

Arrive at work, into the Vortex..... several hours elapse

Leave work for return journey, full moon, tonight I saw a fox and an owl on the way home, and noticed the fields and valleys luminous, swathed in the moonlight. Even in the dark, in the special black and white, somehow the change of leaf colour is apparent, the mood of the countryside busy shedding, saying goodbye, preparing.

Radio 4 accompanies me til I get bored, Classic FM had plain song, the plainest sort of plain song- switched to cd (old technology) shock horror, Billy Joel.! Sing about one thing, think about another 3 or 4. Plan a trip, wonder about horse. Roads beautiful to swoop along, night driving so cooling and altered than the day. The long warning of oncoming traffic silently heralded by the seeking glow, hugging the tarmac, slinking round hedges.

Pass through small market town, find myself walking into supermarket and then from nowhere the mantra begins. Milk, toilet roll and Wet Cat FOOD. Would like to think that the order is dictated by the geography of the shop, but recognise that as the mantra is repeated in my mind, there is a rise in volume and the accent is most definitely on the last two slow syllables.

Compelled, I respond to the instruction of the morning, dormant all day and now commanding me.

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