Friday Fiction – Coopers Story

I sit on the window sill looking in, its warm in there, much warmer in there than out here in the cold frozen tundra, where the soil is solid a metre down.  Ok, slight exaggeration, but you try digging a hole when the ground is rock hard with frost. The ground is white and it is indecent for me, ME of all cats, to be expected to be outside when it is white.  It was too cold on my feet to wander around. That ground is just too cold, too hard and to be honest, I don’t do cold.  Cold and I just don’t agree, how dare it be cold!  How dare she think that she can come in and boss me around, shoo me off the bed and outside.  Who does she think she is anyway?

I am sulky and grumpy, it is my nature.  I have a stump tail, I could not make up my mind if I did not want a tail or not.  My mummy was a Manx, which is a cat with no or a short stumpy tail.  I am a stump tail manx, it just happens to be a bit longer than most stumpys, its more of a half tail.  People make fun of it, but I think it is cool, all crooked and fuzzy.  When I see another cat, it is almost the same width as me, at least that is what I am told, you see I am of a fuller figure – I don’t like it when she calls me fat – and very fluffy.  I have some strange mannerisms, like when I am walking, and I feel the urge to scratch, I normally stand in place and use my back leg, saves me getting my bum cold and wet sitting on the ground.  I am the master of the standing scratch and I am cool doing it too!

I have this cool strut that I do, and at the moment, with all of these awful kittens around, I am rediscovering my youth, which isn’t hard when you are 7 years old in human terms.I love running down the hallway and trying to skate around the corner into the lounge, lots of fun when you don’t have carpet as traction!

I love my owner, just she is a little bit, erratic.  I hate how she bosses me around and tells me I only love her when it is food time.  Of course I always love her, just more so when she opens the fridge.  That sound is music to my ears.  I love her first thing in the morning too, and I enjoy waking her up, a claw across the face, that usually does it, I don’t like it though when she swears at me and tells me to get out of it.  I’m just trying to remind her that it is well overdue for breakfast.  Yes, even at 5:45am, when the alarm goes off, it is still overdue for my foodtime. 

I try to stay clear of her partner, he is strange.  He used to go fishing and he would come home smelling of all these wonderful smells, and he would bring home fish.  He always used to give me little tidbits, especially if I managed to sneak them off the board when he wasn’t looking, I can stretch up quite tall and reach the bench from the floor.

The worst thing about my owner is her child, that bully boy is the spurn of hell.  She keeps saying, “pat him nicely, NICELY” and everytime I get a belt across the head by the boy.  And she has the audacity to call me grumpy!  Still, I got my own back on him the other day, I did warn him, I used my grumpy voice and warned him, but still he kept on rubbing my fur the wrong way, so I did it.  I swung at it, with all claws blazing.  Did a nice little number on his face.  The kid deserved it.  He came into her life and just took over, she never has as much time for me as she used to. 

Back to me and now, the white world is cold and I shiver ever so slightly, but not too much, between the fur and the bubbler, I am not too cold, but I prefer to be snuggled up on the bed, cosy and toasty inside the blankets.  Oh to have my bed back!  I turn and look at it, the last memory of cuddling up on it, smelling it, touching it.  I can see it from the window sill, I just want the bed, it is inviting me, enticing me, calling out to me, oh I want that bed.  Decisions have to be made.  I have to have my bed!

As I consider my position on the window sill, the cold frost on the ground and the distance to the back door where the cat flap is, which is shut from the inside, so us cats can go out but not come back in, I begin to formulate a plan.  I need to go from the sunny side of the house, around the veranda, which is on the cold part of the house, around to the back door, which is the coldest side of the house, all the while trying to avoid the cold on my toes or touching the ground, if I did that, my paws would probably freeze to the spot. 

Up, the only way is up, but it is a long way to climb and being such a short legged fellow, climbing is not my forte, no, not me, sleeping is mine.  Still, I can’t sleep until I get inside.  Scouting around, I see the old peach tree, the branches are wide enough that they can support me, the branches are at odd intervals, but short enough space between then that I should be able to clamber up them without too much difficulty, and the best part, the tree reaches all the way to the roof.

Hang on, what’s on the other side?  Once I get up, I have to get down again…  There is that shed, but that means having to jump, which is another thing I am not good at.  I still remember being a kitten and being stuck in my own backyard because I could not jump up.  I cried and cried until my owner came and lifted me up to the roof of the wood shed.  Then her neighbour would have to lift me back up onto the woodshed to get me home again.  That was, until my owner made a serious of steps.  You know, she does the nicest things sometimes.

But that’s not helping me now, come on, think.  How to get down, how to get down…  down… I know, the window on the other side has that overhanging sill, bit like this one.  Will I be able to reach it?  It’s a long way down from the roof, probably too far down, and it slopes the wrong way, I’ll probably miss my footing and I’ll slip off and there is nothing to hold onto on it’s a concrete and brick sill, what good are claws on concrete. 

What else is there, the fence?  But that still means climbing down the side of the house for a little bit and I would still have to walk on the cold ground.  No, definitely not the fence.  Think, think, think.  Oh, yeah, that’s perfect, there is that overhang by the back porch, a strange little built on overhang.  If I remember rightly, the boy, the annoying brat of a child, was using boxes at the back door the other day, I hope they are still stacked up there.

I just want to rest here for another minute, gain some strength, I am so tired, all this thinking has made me tired… yawn…  looking at that bed, dreamy, heaven, lust… that makes me feel motivated again.  Right, first step, running leap at the tree, one, two, three… leap, oh hell, claws out, yes, no, yes, yes, oh shit.  Front claws have purchase but the back legs are dangling.  Come on back legs, don’t fail me now!  They scramble around like eggbeaters and finally find grip on the trunk of the old peach tree.  Right, awkward position now, front paws, what do they want to do, walk them along the branch, along the branch.  Right, that feels better, support under the ‘ole tum tum.    Back legs onto branch, and I am standing, phew!  A couple of hops up the tree branches and I am on the roof.  Right, run quickly across the roof, whoever painted their roof black.  The sun is only just on it and already it is hot, ohh, ow, hot, hot, hot!  This side is a bit cooler, too cold, ohh, ow, cold, cold, onto the overhang and look down, yes!  The boxes are still there! 

I stop to think about it, but my poor old puddy paws are starting to get frost bite, got to get off this roof!  Here’s hoping they will hold me up, right, now jump.  OW!  Bloody box!  It collapsed underneath me and nearly threw me onto the ground, but no, good old claws save me again.  I love sharpening them, especially on my owners lounge suite.  There is nothing more satisfying than hearing “scratch… scratch… scratch,” “STOP THAT NOW!”  Music to my ears!  I sharpen my claws on the boxes, it feels good having nice sharp number four claws, sharp as razors.  Right, now that’s done, a small jump onto the concrete step and the cat flap!

Still, I am a clever cat, and a smile erupts on my face, as I lick a paw and wipe it over my ears, trying to reach the halo behind my head.  I know how to open the cat flap.  The owner has it so you can go out, but not come back in, it was to stop the kittens from coming in.  You see, the trick is to hit it hard enough that it bounces back out at you.  Then you quickly stick your nose in the small gap and wiggle your head around a little bit, then you can get your head through, your body, all 10 pounds of it, will follow.  Success, I’m so good!

Quick sniff around the house.  Any sign of her and the kid, a careful peek into the kitchen, no. Oh, oh, there’s some biscuits in my bowl, and in Everests, oh, and Meow Meows, score!  I have a quick snack, yuck, now I remembered why I didn’t eat them at breakfast time.  A quick drink of water, I stop to contemplate my naval before I remember my mission, the bed.  Quick stop to the toilet on my way through, the whole reason, I suspect that she threw me out in the first place, to go to the toilet.  I look at the large white bowl and laugh to myself.  All the times I watched her in here, and now I can do it too!  I position myself carefully on the seat, and…  and… and…  Yes, that feels better, much tidier than trying to dig a hole in that solid dirty soil outside.  Get down off the bowl and look into every door as I approach it, no it looks like her and the kid have gone off for a while.  And here it is, bliss!

I wrote this on 19 July 2008 – very obviously my writing style has changed since then.  This is complete with errors, I haven’t edited it!

The bed has my name written all over it, the lodestone is in sight.  I walk all the way around to her side of the bed, yes, this side is the best, it smells like her.  I slowly climb up, one leg at a time, because that’s how I climb up onto the bed, I close my eyes, a dreamy look on my face.  I open my eyes and find my jersey is still there.  This is it, this is heaven on a stick, this is me.  I have successfully completed another Cooper mission impossible.  I’m SOOOO Good!


One thought on “Friday Fiction – Coopers Story

  1. Pingback: RIP Cooper 22/2/00 – 2/4/10 « Catherine Mede Writes

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