Just because you’re fat, doesn’t mean that you’re not hungry. Our cat is living proof of this. All of our meals are eaten to the accompaniment of increasingly desperate squawks from the cat. She is on an endless, unavailing diet which she undermines by catching and eating wildlife supplements.
Mr. Waffle bought me flowers and a card on Valentine’s Day. We don’t usually bother with Valentine’s Day because I am terminally unromantic. The children put us under pressure though and he was always more likely to crack because at heart he is a complete romantic. I put the flowers in a vase in the other room and the cat used her time alone in the kitchen to eat the roast beef intended for the Princess’s lunch time sandwich; so it was a definite win from her point of view. When I went to the fridge to get the pre-sliced turkey which was the alternative for lunch, I found that the fridge door had opened (an ongoing problem – sloping floor, poor seal, overfilled) and the cat was working her way steadily through the turkey slices.
Yesterday evening when I came home she had managed to heave her impressive bulk on to the roof of the neighbour’s shed. She was delighted to see me and made a series of pathetic, I’m stuck noises. I tried to coax her down but to no avail. Even though I was late for my tennis match (lost 6-1, 6-3, alas, thanks for asking), I felt I couldn’t just leave her there. I hauled out the ladder from our own shed and hopped up to grab her but she had disappeared. I leant out uncertainly checking the neighbour’s shed roof and guttering and I heard the cat in the distance as though she were indoors. I started checking pipes, peering into alcoves and generally risking life and limb. I heard her again and there she was sitting looking at me from the doorway of our own shed with a “what is she doing” look on her face.
So, for those who asked, she’s fine thanks but the rest of us are starting to feel increasingly resentful.