He said to Dr. Beardey, “We understand you have done your very best, sir, but now Georgia wants to take care of him, so we’ll just take him home.”
The vet said to me in a serious voice, “I’m just warning you that he might wake up violent and demented.”
Dave said, “I’m usually in quite a good mood when I wake up, sir.”
Which very nearly even in such poonosity made me laugh.
Dr. Beardey said, “I mean Angus.”
And Dave said, “Actually, I think you would have needed to know him before, sir.”
The vet laughed for once and said, “I did look through my predecessor’s notes vis-à-vis the, erm, castration operation and there was some suggestion of quite wild behavior. In fact, the notes did say to never let this cat in this surgery again.”
two hours later
When we had got Angus in the house and tucked up, things went a bit awkward. Dave was on the other side of Angus’s basket looking at him and then he looked up. And our heads were very close to each other. He said to me, “Don’t cry any more, you’ll make your eyes hurt.”
And he stroked my face. I looked at him and he looked at me. Uh-oh.
Then he just suddenly stood up and said, “I’d better go, kittyk—er, Georgia, I’m, well, I’m meeting Emma at six p.m.”
I stood up quickly and I smiled, although my mouth felt a bit stiff.
I said, “Oh yes, yes of course, yeah you would. Dave, can I just say—fanks so much, I don’t know…I…”
For a second he looked like he was going to give me a bit of a kiss but he stopped and just chucked me under the chin and said, “Remember, I am not God in trousers but merely Dave the biscuit…”
And he went.
11:00 p.m.
Angus is in the laundry room in his basket under a big blanket. He hasn’t moved or anything for hours. On the way home in the cab he did a little miaow. It was just a little miaow, but it was something.
He didn’t open his eyes or anything.
But I think a miaow is a good sign.
saturday august 27th
His eyes open now and again, but they are all unfocused like he has really overdosed on catnip. Libby and me are giving him water in a little dropper thing because the vet told us to keep him hydrated.
11:00 p.m.
I have tucked in my charges and am off to beddy byes at last. I truly am a great human being, I hope Baby Jesus is noticing. I may get myself a nurse’s uniform tomorrow. Libby is already wearing hers.
What if Angus really is brain dead or can’t walk anymore or something, will I have done the right thing? What if I have to push him round in a cat wheelchair for the rest of his life? I can’t see any boyfriend putting up with that.
11:20 p.m.
But I would do it. If he can just come round and know who I am, that will be enough for me.
sunday august 28th
I went downstairs to look in at Angus and he opened his eyes!!! And let out a really creaky miaow.
Hurrah, gadzooks and larks a mercy, as Billy Shakespeare and his pals would have said.
Thank you, thank you, Baby Jesus!!!
I bent down to the basket and said, “Hello, big furry pally, it’s me!”
And I put my hand on his face and stroked it. He even purred!!! I started to cry again, oh well, devil take the hindmost if you can’t have a blubbing fest when your cat has nearly gone to that big cat basket in the sky, when can you have a blubbing fest???
I rushed into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I had got kittykat treats just in case he wanted anything. Cream and everything. Hey, they should make special-flavored ice cream for cats called mice cream. Do you get it??? Do you see??? Oh good, I have gone hysterical. Hurrah!!!
I got a little dish of cream and carried it into the laundry room. He was lying there with his bandage over his head and stitches everywhere and his tail strapped up, but his eyes were open. I put my finger in the cream and put it to his mouth. At first he didn’t respond, but then his tongue came out and licked off the cream. God, I had forgotten how disgusting his tongue was, it was like being snogged by someone with sandpaper on their tongue. Possibly. I’ll ask Rosie what it is like snogging someone with sandpaper for a tongue. She probably knows!!!
Hahahahaha. I must be cheered up, my brain is chatting rubbish to itself like normal.
I knew when Angus had had enough cream because he bit my finger quite hard. No damage in the jaw department, then!
Phoned the ace gang to tell them the news.
They are all going round to Jas’s house for an all-girl barbecue.
Jas said, “Are you coming to the all-girl barbecue to celebrate?”
I said, “Which of you is going to do the barbecue?”
And Jas said, “Dad is.”
“It’s not exactly all-girl, then, is it, Jas?”
But then I thought of Jas’s dad and I thought actually it is.
I can’t go, though.
I’d like to because I haven’t seen another human being for days. But I can’t bear to leave Angus when he is so poorly.
I said that to Mum earlier on, I said, “Oh, I wish I had some human company whilst I nurse Angus.”
She said, “I’ve been here all the time as well.”
I said, “As I said, I wish I had some human company.”
And she had stropped off to have a bath. That was about two hours ago and she is still in there…I don’t know what she does in there for so long, it’s vair selfish.
Jas said, “We’re going to give one another manicures and try different makeup, don’t you want to have a go?”
I was tempted, but I said, “No, I can’t, he’s still too poorly, but will you phone and let me know all the goss?”
And Jas said, “Will do, Florrie Nightingale. In fact I’ll come round tomorrow in the arvie. I went for a walk with Tom yesterday, it was soooo fab. I’ll tell you all about it. We actually saw a Red Admiral, which are very rare, I thought it was a sign of hope and—”
I said, “Jas, I think my mum might be coming out of the bathroom and I might be able to get in there for the first time in about a year, so hold that thought about the mothy type thing and—”
“A Red Admiral is a butterfly, actually, moths are—”
“Byeeeeeeeeeeee.”
Good grief, I had nearly stumbled into Vole-land by mistake.
monday august 29th
Woke up and went to check on Angus. Found Gordy sleeping in the cat basket with him. Soooo sweet, Gordy was all curled up at the side of his dad.
His dad might not be so keen if he knew about Gordy’s homosexualist tendencies.
Jas came round and kept me company for the afternoon. We mostly tried different sorts of sexy walking. I practiced my beach walk.
Jas said, “Your feet are turning in like a duck.”
“Jas, I am doing that on purpose, that is how supermodels walk.”
“Is it? Why?”
“Jas, I don’t know why, they just do. That is le rule. Why do they put their tongue behind their bottom teeth when they smile? I don’t know, it is a simple rule. Let us just get on with it.”
But Jas had gone into Jasworld.
“Anyway, why are you practicing your beach walk? You aren’t going to go to Pizza-a-gogo land now. Which reminds me, Tom was talking to Dom and Dom said that Masimo had phoned him up and was really glad that you were coming. He wouldn’t be if he could see you poncing around like a duck. And also if he knew that you aren’t coming, anyway.”
I stopped for a moment to hit Jas over the head with a pillow.
She did have a point, though.
I said, “Jas, will you try that number I have got? I tried it again last night and it was the same Yorkshire bloke. I slammed the phone down, but I bet he knew it was me.”
She said, “No.”
Which is nice.
9:00 p.m.
I wonder why I haven’t heard from Masimo. He must be back from the hills by now. Do they have hills
in Rome, or do they have hillio?
He is expecting me to arrive any day, so how will he know when to meet me if he doesn’t get in touch?
Perhaps he has got the humpio because I haven’t phoned him.
Phoned Jas. “Please help me find out if I’ve got the right number for Masimo. Pleasey, please, please.”
“I’ve got a face pack on.”
“Well, when you take it off, then.”
“Then I am doing my cuticles.”
I slammed the phone down. She is sooo annoying.
Oooooh, what shall I do???
Who might know the number?
Angus started yowling. He’s getting a bit bored in his basket of pain now and I have to go dangle stuff in front of him that he can biff with his nose.
thirty minutes later
I had a quick mini break from cat care.
Phoned Rosie. “Rosie, will you get Sven to pop down to the snooker hall and see if any of the lads are there and see if they have got Masimo’s number?”
“Okeydokey. I’ll call you back, amigo.”
forty minutes later
None of the Dylans are in town.
Now what shall I do?
Looked in at Angus before I went to bed. Gordy is in the basket, and Naomi and Libby.
She said, “Night night, me sleepin’ with big Uggy.”
tuesday august 30th
10:00 a.m.
The portly one has landed. He leapt out of his robin mobile like he had been to Antarctica instead of pretending to go fishing with Uncle Eddie. I notice he had no fish.
He kissed Mum on the cheek and she seemed a bit shy and not saying much. But at least she said hello and didn’t hit him.
Dad went and looked at Angus and was quite shocked, I think. He bent down to the basket and stroked his head and I heard him say, “Poor little chap, you’ve been in the wars, haven’t you?”
Quite touching, really.
I went into the kitchen and said to Mum, “Hmm well it seems like—”
At which point we heard from the laundry room, “Bloody hell, you big furry bastard, you nearly had my bloody finger off!!!”
I went on, “It seems like dear Pater is back.”
in bed
All quiet on the parent front. They are talking really quietly so that I can’t hear them. But Mum did laugh once and I thought I heard some kind of slurping noise. Erlack. I hoped to God that they were eating jelly.
midnight
I am eschewing Jas with a firm hand because she is obsessed with her stupid cuticles and wouldn’t even help me phone Masimo.
He must phone soon, surely?
wednesday august 31st
morning
The phone rang. I leapt to get it.
It was Dave the Laugh.
“Hi Gee, how is the furry one?”
I should have been disappointed that it wasn’t Masimo but to be honest, I had a really warm feeling when I heard Dave’s voice.
I said, “He pretended to be asleep and ill but when Dad put his hand on his nose, I mean Angus’s nose not his own nose, because that would be a bit odd even for my dad. Well, when he did, Angus bit it.”
Dave laughed. “Brilliant. So you are a bit cheered up?”
I gabbled on. “Yeah, actually it was funny you would have laughed, but I tried to phone Masimo and I got some bloke called Fat Bob from Yorkshire and he said he couldn’t get any decent pickled egg in Rome!”
Dave said, “Right, so you’re off to Rome, then?”
I said, “Er, well, I don’t want to leave Angus and, well, I—”
Dave said, “Actually, Georgia, I have to run, so I’ll see you around. Bye.”
Wow, that was a bit brutal.
I wonder why he had to run?
Maybe Emma had turned up or something. You would think that she could wait for just a minute, wouldn’t you. Why did he ring if he didn’t want to really speak to me?
How weird.
why can’t everyone just speak english?
thursday september 1st
8:00 a.m.
Joy unbounded, Angus tried to stand up today!!! And he ate some kittykat food. Libby fed it to him with a “poon” and most of it went in his ear but hurrah hurrah!!!
To perk him up I put on his favorite tune, “Who Let the Dogs Out?” and did an impromptu disco inferno dance. I did the Viking bison dance and as a special tribute to his kittykatness I substituted paw movements for the bison horn bit. I think I am a genius dancewise!!! And even though Angus just let his tongue loll out and closed his eyes, I can tell that deep down he is secretly thrilled at my tribute dance.
That is what I think.
I have quite literally single-handedly nursed Angus out of danger.
Well, I have had a bit of help.
It was nice of Dave the Laugh to go and get Angus with me.
Vair nice.
two minutes later
So how come he is Mr. Big Pal one minute and the next minute he is too busy to speak to me on the phone?
I hope he doesn’t turn into a puppydog boyfriend that just does everything his so-called girlfriend says.
Perhaps he really, really likes Emma. Because maybe she is a top snogger.
Actually I don’t think she is. Her lips are quite thin and I bet that means that there is a bit of toothy exposure during No. 5 on the snogging scale.
Urghh no, I don’t want Dave snogging Emma in my brain.
I’ll hum something to block the picture out.
10:30 a.m.
Phone rang.
I said, “Emergency Ward ten, Nurse Nicolson speaking.”
And a voice said, “Mi dispiace, I lookin’ for Georgia, she for not here?”
Masimo!
I said, “Masimo, it’s me, it’s me. Georgia. I tried to phone…er, phonio you io and couldn’t—I spoke to some people from Yorkshire, I don’t know who they were but they were on holiday in Italy and having a lovely time, but—I—oh, it is soooo nice to hear from you.”
Masimo was laughing.
“Ah, Miss Georgia, you are funning. I am back from ze hills, and I am thinking when you are for to come a Roma. Mi dispiace…I am sorry for my English, now I am with my familia, it is like I idioto…how you say, even more crappio.”
I said, “Masimo, well, the thing is, about me coming to Rome, well, my pussycat—you know my—”
Damn, what was the word for cat?
Surely it couldn’t be cattio?
I said, “My cattio is not well.”
He sounded puzzled. “You are not well? Why, what is wrong with you?”
Oh, merde-io.
“Not me, my cat, you know Angus is…”
And I started doing pathetic miaowing down the phone. Oh good, I was talking to my Italian Stallion sophisticated boyfriend and pretending to be a cat. Excellent.
In the end I managed to get Masimo to understand. He said, “So you are not for to come for me?”
I felt quite upset. He sounded really sad. And I wanted to see Rome, although I would probably starve to death there, and never get to the lavatory or anything. It had taken me almost all of my life to tell Masimo that Angus was ill. Why can’t everyone speak English? Are they just too lazy? I didn’t say that, though.
twenty minutes later
We talked and talked. Well we tried to talk, but people kept coming in to where Masimo was talking to me on the phone and he would shout at them in Pizza-a-gogo. It was all sorts of people, boys, girls, his mum, his dad, aunties, uncles, dogs, and I can’t be sure but I think a parrot came in as well.
They certainly seem quite sociable, the Italianos. And quite good-natured. If my family had been in the house when I was talking to Masimo, it would have been mostly shouting and swearing—and that would have just been Libby. And then his brother came into the room and Masimo said, “Caro, Roberto and I will sing for you a song from the heart.”
I started to say, “Well, it’s alright I—you needn’t…”
B
ut they had already started.
When they finished Masimo said, “It is an old song called ‘Volare’ and it mean that my love has given me the wings.”
Blimey. A bit odd, but that is the romantic Latins for you.
When we said arrivederci Masimo kissed me down the phone. He asked me to do the same. I must say I felt a bit of a prat kissing the phone. But that is transcontinental romance for you.
five minutes later
I’ve never had anyone say they love me before. Libby lobes me, that is true, but there is something a bit menacing about the way she says it.
one minute later
And Dave the Laugh kind of said he did. What was it he said when he fished me out of the water in the woods? Oh, yeah. “And that is why I love you.”
But he doesn’t seem to love me now. In fact to be frank, he seemed to be doing a Jas. Also known as having the humpty with me.
Anyway, shut up, brain.
Concentrate on the Luuurve God in the hand, not the Dave the Laugh in the bushes.
ten minutes later
Masimo is going to fly back to Billy Shakespeare land on the fourteenth. Which is ages away.
Unlike the twelfth, the day we go back for more torture and ordure at Stalag 14.
I’ve said this once and I will say it again. What is the point of school? It is really only to keep the elderly insane off the streets, in my opinion, and to provide shelter for girl haters.
ten minutes later
I am quite literally on cloud nine, luuurvewise.
one minute later
Tip top of the Love-o-meter.
I couldn’t be happier even if I was a hamster on happy pills scampering up my ladder.
one minute later
The only thing is, though, that I get the hurdy gurdy knee trembling and wubbish brain whenever I speak to Masimo. He makes me feel shy. And I don’t really know what he’s like. I mean, when you look at the nub and the gist of the situation, I have in effect only snogged him three times.
three minutes later
I wonder who I have snogged the most times?
I may have to compose my snogging history until one of my so-called friends can be bothered to phone me up. I am always doing the calling up, so let them make an effort for a change.
two minutes later
Tragically, my first sexual experience involved incest. My cousin touched me on the leg when we were sharing a room. And then he suggested we play “tickly bears.”
Stop in the Name of Pants! Page 10
