The Badminton Match

Today I woke up to find the cats had transformed my bedroom into a badminton court made of lasers.

I squinted against the red lights, “Who’s winning?” I asked, fumbling for my phone to see what time it was.

“We are!” they all cried. I frowned at the screen. 5.30am. I shrugged and nodded to myself. “Yes you are,” I muttered.
 

Just then Smudge jumped up, hitting the shuttlecock directly at the ceiling. I winced, expecting the light shade to take a hit, when suddenly a laser portal opened up and swallowed up the shuttlecock. It closed with a ‘pop’.

There was silence for a while, with the cats watching the space where the portal had been.

“Uhh,” I said after a while, “Where did that go?”

Sheba turned to look at me. “Your brain,” she explained.

All the cats stared at me disconcertingly. I frowned.

“Don’t worry it became very very small first,” Treacle reassured me.

I lay back on my pillow and closed my eyes. “How much other stuff have you put in there?” I asked them.

“Obviously not enough,” Smudge replied, and I got the distinct feeling that it was going to be a long day.

Fairies (Part II)

Later on the cats presented their findings to me in glass jars.

“So we’ve got a moth, a maybug, a grasshopper and… a praying mantis,” I concluded. “I didn’t even know we got those here. Where did you find that?”

“Anything can be found if you look hard enough,” Smudge said.

“If that’s the case, then where are the fairies?” I asked smugly.

There was a moment of silence, while the cats looked at me, a familiar pity in their eyes.

“What?” I asked in suspicion.

“Human, the fairies have already been homed,” Sheba informed me calmly, “These are merely some gifts we acquired for you along the way.”

“Homed where?” I asked.

“The loft,” the cats replied.

“Great,” I said sarcastically. “I bet they come with terms as well, don’t they?”

“Unlimited teeth and cereal,” Smudge told me. “You will provide the cereal.”

“Deal,” I agreed quickly. I was thoughtful for a moment. “They’re going to give me bad dreams, aren’t they?”

“Undoutedly, human,” Tizer said. “But you might be alright if you put a rainbow trout in your bed.”

“No, you just want the room to smell of trout,” I said.

“We’ll have to extract its teeth first,” Sheba mused.

“This conversation is not happening,” I told them.

Just then the cats fell silent, and raised their eyes to the ceiling. The singing had started.

Fairies (Part I)

Today I came into the garden to find the cats adorned with wings.

“Playing dress up?” I guessed.

“We are on the hunt for fairies, human,” Sheba told me.

“Fairies. Wow, ok. Good luck with that one,” I muttered.

“Cynicism breeds humiliation,” the cat replied.

“That’s not a saying,” I said, “So why does catching fairies require costume?”

“Psychological studies show compelling evidence that how individuals generally perceive others is a stable individual difference that reveals much about the perceiver’s own personality,” Smudge explained matter-of-factly.

“And it means they’ll like us more,” Treacle added helpfully.

I paused. “I’m pretty sure that didn’t make sense, but I know what you’re trying to say.”

“Now be quiet, human. We must listen for the singing,” Sheba said.

“Right. See you later then,” I said, and left them to it.

(Smudge learned about psychology from kstrump.com/)

The Trial

Today the cats came into the kitchen on horseback.

“Hooved animals in the house…” I warned them.

“The human is guilty of treason!” cried Smudge. “Capture her!”

Suddenly Tizer pulled a cord and released a giant cage that fell from the ceiling and engulfed me.

“Seriously guys, what is this about?” I moaned.

“The human is jailed!” Smudge said. “Begin the trial at once!”

Then they all sat in a row and pulled out their wigs.

“I’m pretty sure this is happening the wrong way round,” I said. “And why are you all judges?”

“What is your plea, human?” Sheba asked me.

“If you don’t let me out, none of you are getting fed this evening,” I replied.

The cats proceeded to mutter amongst themselves, before Smudge gave a nod.

“We have decided to release you just this once,” he told me.

“Wow, thanks. I appreciate it,” I said dryly.

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, human,” Smudge reminded me. “Apart from cat wit, which is lower still, but only because we are smaller.”

The Big Move

Today the cats interrupted my packing.

"What do you want?" I asked them.

"It has come to our attention," Smudge said, "That you are not documenting our lives at adequate efficiency."

"Oh right," I said, piling some books into a nearby box. "Believe me, I would love to you, but I'm quite busy trying to emigrate."

"Our scratching post has gone," Sheba informed me.

"Yes I know," I replied, "It's in a box. Like everything else. It never bothered you before; you're much happier scratching the sofa anyway."

"Human," Smudge said gravely, "I'm afraid that if you refuse to stop this silliness and make things go back to normal, then we will have to begin our protest."

I stared at him, wondering how any of them knew anything about 'normal'.

"Protest?" I said after a while.

"Every night while you are sleeping we will remove one of your eyelashes," Sheba explained.

"You do that and you're all losing your whiskers," I threatened.

A few moments of silence passed.

"The lion fish don't want to move," Sheba said quietly.

"Why are the lion fish still in the house?!" I moaned. "Find them a new home. Now."

Smudge surveyed the box beside me.

"Not there," I told him.

"Very well," Smudge said as they began to saunter away.

I wondered how many eyelashes I had.

Squirrels and Stripes

Today the cats came home covered in black and white paint.

I froze. “Why are you zebras?” I asked them. “Where are the zebras? Are there zebras in the house?”

“Of course not,” Smudge said, as if the notion were absurd, “This disguise was necessary for playing pranks on the squirrels of the silver birches.”

“I really hope your ‘pranks’ didn’t include stealing their food and eating their babies...” I muttered.

“If they didn’t want it taken, they shouldn’t have buried it underground in a public park,” Smudge said matter-of-factly.

“And how are you planning on getting the paint off?” I asked them, wanting to change the subject, “A little trip in the washing machine, perhaps?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, human,” Sheba told me, “You must have us dry cleaned.”

“So much for a productive afternoon,” I sighed. “I suppose I better get my loyalty card then. We’ve made so many trips this year that I’m pretty sure one of you goes free this time.”