Was going to do a post about the idiot kids that’s trashing the country as we speak, but no. They will do what they will do and noting l say will make an iota of difference to the situation.
So, l thought I’d regale you with a story of my cat. The big black and white one. The real life tomcat. He was never spayed so l presume he sowed his wild oats widely 😉 And that is a big part of this story.
The old man, Chaplin as he was known, would wander off and stay wandering for months on end. Then he’d come home and stay for a while and then be off again.
Alas. The last visit home was to be his last. He came home and was fine for a while but he seemed to have used up all nine of his lives. He died one morning and l buried him in my garden right outside my bedroom window. Pets die – they are a part of your life for a while and then they go away, leaving you with a somewhat emptier life, albeit richer for having had the experience.
Back to the wild oats sowing.
A few weeks after his death, the cats l have in the house woke me up with their fighting. It’s happened before – unfortunately a side effect of having cats. They don’t generally worry about where and when they fight. In actual fact, l think they wait for the time when you would get the biggest fright and then they have at it – not much fun at all. In this instance l did not see the other cat hey were fighting with. I did see it the second time the fight happened. And it was the spitting image of the cat currently lying buried underneath my bedroom window. Same size, same markings, same movements…
Ever read or seen Pet Cemetery? If you have, you will know exactly what l’m talking about!!
Picture this. You’re fast asleep. Next minute you are rudely awakened by the screaming of fighting cats, right in your room. Add to that the sight of a supposedly dead animal walking,or rather, running around in your bedroom and what your eyes are telling you as opposed to what your brain know – utterly mind-numbing terror! I woke, screaming myself, scattering cats, waking the neighbours, and possibly people in the next six streets, not to mention the block and jumped out of bed,chasing the blasphemous being out in front of me. I actually went to Chaplin’s grave to go and check that he has not indeed clawed his way out if it. Nope. He did not. As far as I could see the rocks on his grave were undisturbed.
No,it was not my old Chaplin. It must have been one of hiss of spring that frightened the life out of me.
When all was settled, l realised something else was wrong. I’d lost my loose tooth cap. I had t walk around with gap in my mouth – not quite a love gap, but still. Not the way one would like t be out in the world. I’m still being teased about that tooth and probably always will.
And there you have it. Should l have to bury another animal in my garden, heaven forbid, l think I’ll pour a ring of salt around it – just to keep any possible ghosts in check!
As mentioned before in passing, l joined Toastmasters here in SA. And l will have to make my first speech in the near future. No particular topic, just to break the ice and l thought that this essay may not be a bad idea for a first speech – think it’s any good? Anything you think l should add or remove? I would welcome any constructive criticism. Bear in mind, this is an actual true story 😉