The Cat That Got The Cream &
Mischief woke with a start. Under normal circumstances this would not have posed a problem. However, Mischief had been fast asleep on the window ledge and waking with a start made her jump and she came crashing down making much more noise than should be possible for a little cat. Mummy, who had been in the kitchen at the time, came rushing through to see what all the commotion was about and found Mischief in a rather embarrassing position covered in newspapers. Mischief had landed on top of the newspaper rack and it had overturned on top of her. Mummy picked Mischief up and after checking for broken bones and such things, put her on the sofa before picking up the newspapers and rack and placing them back in their rightful spot.
Mischief, who was now wide-awake, went to the back door and asked mummy to let her outside. It had not gone unnoticed by Mischief that the rain had stopped and therefore mummy, quite happy to let her go out to play, cheerfully opened the door for her.
Mischief, as usual, went flying out of the door. She then went across the garden, up the fence, down the other side, across another garden and round the corner, before coming to a stop outside the back door of her neighbour's house. Once there, Mischief tapped the cat flap with her paw three times, paused briefly and tapped three more times. It was her secret code to let her friend Mrs Butterworth, know that Mischief was at the door and it was time to come out and play.
Under normal circumstances, Mrs Butterworth was as quick as Mischief in wanting to get outside and play, but this morning there was no immediate response. Puzzled and somewhat impatient, Mischief repeated the knock and sure enough Mrs Butterworth came to the door. She poked her head out of the cat flap and said good morning to Mischief. "Morning Mrs B" said Mischief. "Are you coming out to play?"
"I'm sorry Mischief," replied Mrs B, "I am not feeling very well today." "What's up with you then?" asked Mischief. "I'm not very sure," said Mrs B. "all I can tell you is that I have an exceedingly upset tummy, which means I can not be very far from my litter tray and I also have a very sore head". "Oh my!" replied Mischief sympathetically. "That does not sound good at all. Did you eat anything strange at all yesterday?" enquired Mischief. "Not that I can recall Mischief. I only ate my normal cat food and I drank a little bit of cream which I sneaked out of my mum's glass last night when she wasn't looking" replied the very sorrowful kitten.
Poor Mrs Butterworth, she was feeling very sorry for herself indeed.
"Any way Mischief, it has already rained once this morning and by the look of those clouds - I think we will be in for more rain very soon. You know how the rain spoils my fur, so it is probably a good thing that I am not feeling well today" said the forlorn looking Mrs B who bade Mischief a weak farewell and made her way back to her cushion in the kitchen.
Mrs Butterworth did have a point there, conceded Mischief. Despite her name, Mrs Butterworth was not very old. In fact, she was not even a year old and she was younger than Mischief too. But, what Mrs Butterworth lacked in age, she made up for in beauty. She had long cream fur, tipped in a golden brown colour. She was a very beautiful lady and Mischief was somewhat jealous of her best friends looks. Mischief was what some people would have referred to as a standard moggie of dubious parentage, with short black and white fur, whereas Mrs Butterworth was a pedigree Persian cat of exceedingly distinguished parents - some went so far as to say her Mother was a Champion Lady. However, all that mattered not in the scheme of things. Never would you find better friends than Mischief and Mrs Butterworth.
"Well get some rest" Mischief called out to the retreating Mrs B - "I do hope you feel better soon - I shall come and see you again tomorrow at the usual time" and she ran off across the gardens and back indoors.
"That was excellent timing Mischief" said mummy. "I was just about to close the door as it is starting to rain again."
It was at this point that the doorbell rang and both mummy and Mischief went to see who was there. It was Mrs Snekia who lived next door. She was Mrs Butterworth's mummy and had come round for a cup of coffee and a natter. Mischief had noticed, in the past, that these human traits were often very boring and after a few minutes Mischief would normally take herself off to sleep, upstairs, away from the noisy chatter.
However, this morning was somewhat different. Mischief had only recently woken up from a sleep and was, therefore, not very tired, so she decided to hang around to see if she could scrounge a saucer of milk or, at the very least, a little bit of fuss and attention from either of the two women.
The two ladies, with their steaming mugs of coffee, sat down on the sofa and it wasn't long before they were deep in conversation. Mischief was not having much luck in getting their attention and she was just about to go and find Scoobey to see if he wanted to play chase with her when she overheard Mrs Butterworth's name being mentioned. This stopped Mischief in her tracks and her curiosity got the better of her and so she decided to hang around to see if she could find out what was being said about her best friend. It wasn't long before she had the complete, unabridged tale of woe that surrounded Mrs Butterworth that day.
Apparently Mrs Snekia had caught Mrs Butterworth stealing some cream from her glass. Now this was no ordinary cream. No! Indeed it was not! In fact, this cream was very special. It was human cream called "Irish-Whiskey" and was for human consumption only. Even more importantly it was supposed to be for human adults as it contained something called alcohol. Mischief was not too sure what alcohol was - but the more she listened the more it sounded very unpleasant to her. Apparently, if alcohol was drunk in large quantities it would make humans very ill and more often than not it would result in something humans called a "hangover". From what Mischief gathered these "hangover" symptoms were described as seriously bad headaches and tummy upsets!
The more Mischief heard, the more she understood why Mrs Butterworth was not feeling very well. Mrs Snekia had literally caught Mrs Butterworth with her paws in the glass. "Hopefully she has learned her lesson and won't do it again" said Mrs Snekia. "I very much doubt it has been a pleasant experience for her." She continued to tell Mischief's mummy that Mrs Butterworth was currently sleeping on an old cushion in the kitchen not far from the litter tray and that the little cat had not eaten her breakfast either - which made the two ladies dissolve into fits of laughter.
As soon as their fits of giggles had subsided, Mischief's mummy said "All this has just reminded me of when I was a little girl and one of the escapades our own cat got in to one day."
"Tell me more", said Mrs Snekia somewhat intrigued.
"Well," reminisced mummy, "this is going back some years now to when I was about 11 years old. Our cat at the time was called Lucinda Cha Harming, or Lucy for short. Mum had taken some food out of the freezer to defrost during the day whilst we were all out. She had taken all the usual precautions, knowing what Lucy was like, and had made sure that the bowl of food was covered with a heavy plate. We all went off for the day and when we got back mum went straight through to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. All of a sudden we heard an almighty yell, which was mum was calling out Lucy's name. Tim, my brother, ran through to the kitchen, with the rest of us hot on his heels, to see what all the fuss was about and we found mum staring at an empty bowl. She was murderous and started going mad saying she was going to kill that cat if she ever got her hands on her. Tim started laughing and told mum that murdering Lucy would not be too much of a problem as she was flat out in the conservatory with a very full looking tummy and was in no fit state to run anywhere. Our clever, but not so charming Lucy had managed to get the plate off the bowl of food and she had eaten the entire dish."
Both women started to giggle. Mrs Snekia then asked what had been in the bowl. "Ahhh," said mummy. "It was full of prawns, the lucky little devil. We ended up having baked beans on toast for tea! I'll never forget that day," said mummy rather wistfully.
Just then mummy sat bolt upright, her eyes opening wide as she recalled something else. "Come to think of it Lucy was a Pedigree Persian too! Not the same colour as Mrs Butterworth mind you. Lucy was a "blue and cream" longhair. Well! Well! Well!" said mummy shaking her head as both ladies once again dissolved into fits of laughter.
Mischief had listened to all that had been said and was just about to run straight round to Mrs Butterworth and tease her, when she thought better of it. "Serves her right," thought Mischief, feeling only a little bit sorry for Mrs B. "She has no one to blame but herself. She shouldn't have touched what was not hers. I shall save that bit of news for another day." And with that she sloped off to find a place to curl up and go to sleep, but not before making a mental note to herself not to drink out of her own mummy's glass in the future, lest the same thing happened to her.
It wasn't long before Mischief was in a deep sleep dreaming about the day that she might encounter the same good fortune as Lucy Cha Harming and that mummy would leave a bowl of prawns out for her