THE ANATOMICAL ANOMALIES OF THE COMMON OR GARDEN-CAT

Tommy my cat and I were sitting at home, pretending to be a woman and cat sitting at home. "This is fun," giggled Tommy, "I mean, sitting at home, pretending to be a woman and cat sitting at-home." "Yes," I said, "thank goodness both of us are at home or we couldn't have played this game". "If you were out" said Tommy "I could still pretend that I was a cat sitting at home." "Its not the same kid" I said "For years I used to sit at home pretending I was a woman sitting at home, but it's not the same. It was round about that time that I decided to get a cat for company." "Bye the bye," said Tommy "where did you get me? in a cat refuge? an advert in the paper? a strange meeting with an old crone in the woods?" "Neither," I said, "I found you in a Camay soap box drifting down the river Lagan." Tommy gulped and turned as pale as a black cat can". "It was a Saturday night," I went on, "around Halloween. I thought the box might contain a set of spanners or a crystal goblet with a rim of gold, so I reached out with my broomstick, I mean a-stick and pulled the box ashore and there you were, a small, wet pathetic kitten crying for your mummy, I was just going to set you adrift again, when I thought, "No, It was fate that made you find this feline, your destinies are intertwined, take the kitten home, nourish him, love him and you will never be alone-again". Tommy looked at me with tears in his slitted, yellow eyes and said "Was I alone in the box?" "Alone all alone," I cried, "except for a small rattle, six nappies and an ivory cameo of Lord Carson." "The same one I still wear round my neck," said Tommy, fingering his 18 carat rolled gold necklace. In the silence that followed, Richard Branson sailed round the world in a supermarket shopping bag, the price of oil fell to 10 pence a barrel and Steven Nolan ate his own weight in Jammy Dodgers. "I wonder where I came from" said Tommy "and why mummy gave me away? Was there-no clue?" "There was a note," I cried, "A note written in Sanskrit, but it gave no clue as to who you are or where you came from". "What did the note say? cried Tommy "What did the note-say?" I went up to the attic and dragged down an old chest, covered in rust and dust. I opened the chest with an ancient creak, not having the key, reached in and withdrew a cigarette. I lit the cigarette by applying flame to one end, took a little puff up to his bed and went on with my story. "The letter" I cried, "That was written in-Sanskrit, with pencil said-and I quote, "To whom it may concern, because it doesn't concern us, in this box is a kitten born out of wedlock. We are a respectable family, with two cars and sprinklers on the lawn. Our eldest daughter has just gone up to university, even though it's only down the road and our son-Orville can walk and talk, and he's just turned 28. As for this kitten, contained in the box, do with him what you like. He will never get a penny of our money, or dance at my daughte'rs wedding. He is an outcast, a homeless feline, we never want to see him again. All the best from Alma and Ernie Barrowfield, 23 the Hawthorns, Ann Street, Belfast, Northern Ireland, Great Britain, The world, the Universe, The Cosmos."
Tommy looked at me and said, "If we only had some clue." "I know lad," I said, "I know, but the man who wrote that wasn't giving anything away. Talk about-obtuse."
"Tommy," I said, over a supper of a little fishie on a dishie, "Can you really see in the dark Tommy?" "Tommy looked all around and muttered, "I'm not really supposed to talk about this, but-yes." "How cool," I said, "can you not see the dark like the rest of us can?" "Of course I can see the dark" said Tommy "If I didn't see the dark, I would never know when to switch on the lights on my bicycle. I can-SEE in the dark. I have special lens in my eyes that allow me to see in the dark." "Did you go to Specsavers?" I said. "No," said Tommy, "nature provided them and I didn't have to fill a form in or anything." "I wish I could see in the dark" I said. "If I could see in the dark, I could sell my flash light and buy a stone of plums." I have another gift," said Tommy with a wink, "I can see the-wind." I broke wind with surprise. "I saw that." said Tommy. "Oh Tommy," I yelled "Oh Tommy Cat, I have always wanted to know the colour of the wind. Tommy, please tell me Tommy, please, what colour is the wind?" "It's hard to describe" said Tommy "It's a sort of silvery colour with tinges of aqua marine and just a hint of canary yellow." "Oh Tommy," I cried "How wonderful it must be to be a cat. To be able to see in the dark, to be able to see the beauty of the wind and to be able to fall from tall buildings and always land on your feet." Tommy burst out laughing and said, "Cats can't fall from tall buildings and land on their feet." "Yes they can." I yelled "Everyone says so.""No, No," said Tommy "It's an urban myth, put about by lucky, contortionist cats." Tommy and I were so happy in our snug, condemned wee home. We both gave a shriek, clasped hands and danced a four hand reel to the sound of Christine Bleakly on TV, whining on and on about global warming and the outrageous price of wee buns with sugar on the top. Then Tommy and I stood out in the cold and rain, pretending to be a woman and cat locked out of their house. I don't know, It's all-go, where does the time go? I mean, it seems only yesterday, I was wondering what would happen today! Life-eh? Cor Blimey! Where's it all going to end? and will there be a man to show us the way out? I don't know. I suppose there's no good carping on about it. Life-eh? it's some handlin', stone the crows, eh missus? I mean, it makes you think. And then you have to contend with monkeys on pogo sticks! What's all that about then-eh? I don't know, cor blimey and stone the bleeding crows--eh?
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Yeh, monkeys on pogo sticks? that's what we have to put up with now!