It's a cat's life

Having dumped all my Bestival stuff in my room and headed back out into my hectic social life last night, I returned this evening to the fragrant pong of drying mud, musty caravan and wet clothes. Nice. As I set about tidying up, Chairman Meow, our beloved cat, came to sit with me.

Two things you need to know about Chairman are: when he first arrived he singled my bed out as the only bed in the house to wee on. All the time. And the other is that Gareth is allergic to him and so I’ve promised him that I never let him in my room.

Chairman! How lovely of you to join me. Come, take a seat on my bed why don’t you. May I say how lovely it is that you no longer pee on my bed? And my, what a fine coat you have.

We chatted as I continued to throw everything I’d ever owned into the ‘wash’ pile, for it had all been contaminated with the smell of mud.

Then, as cats do, Chairman had had enough of my charm and was off. I looked back at where he had been, and rage slowly surged through me. CHAIRMAN! You’ve pissed on my bed again!

A wet patch just where he’d been. Why you little !!!!

I chased after him, he now having a morsel of food from his bowl downstairs. I know what to do when a cat pees on your bed. I'm an expert. You put their face in it and hit their nose. That learns them. So I did this, him whimpering and trying to get away. As I held him, I realised he was rather wet and it had been raining when I got home…

Oh no. Someone arrest me for cruelty to animals. I smelt the wet patch. I’d know if it was cat wee. It’s the most horrible smell in the world.

The duvet was odourless. I hugged Chairman tightly, apologising profusely.

You don’t understand what I’m saying but I’m so sorry Chairman, I thought you’d weed, you hadn’t….I’m forever sorry, I pleaded, nuzzling up to him. He wriggled from my grip and sauntered out, our friendship gone. Our secret bedroom meetings behind Gareth’s back, over.

Just as he left me, Gareth called. I was too upset to hide my emotions and told him everything.

Reminds me of that story your Grandma (always) tells us, Gareth laughs. You know, the one about the Welsh dog, Bedd Gelert, who was just trying to do a good thing and protect the baby. But his owner came in, saw him covered in blood and jumped to the conclusion that he’d tried to maul the baby, and shot him. Only later did he see the dead fox and realise the dog had protected the baby from the fox.

Great. So Chairman is likened to a hero baby saving dog by the very man who originally didn’t even like the bloody animal, and I feel even worse.

Think I’ll go open some tuna and buy back his love.