You Can Take the Cat Out of Slough

by Chris Pascoe

  CP: No, no, let me carry on. There were loads of local tomcats and she could’ve had kittens by quite a few of them, all in the same . . .

  BRUM: THAT’S IT, MATE, DON’T YOU MESS WITH ME WHEN I’VE BEEN DRINKING.

  CP: Oh no, you’re not going to ask me outside again, are you?

  BRUM: YES, I . . . nah, let’s just have another beer. I like you, you’re my besht mate, you are, Chris, and you are too, dog. I love dogs (lifts paw and wipes tears from eyes).

  CP: I knew you’d had too many. No way I’ll get any sense out of you now. Typical. What do you want to do when the pub closes, then? Go for a catnip kebab or head down the tandoori – I think they’ve served me cat food once or twice.

  BRUM: I know what we can do . . . we’re ghosts, right?

  CP: Yes?

  BRUM: Let’s go and haunt Commisshhhioner Herbert!

  CP: For once, Brum, we are in total and utter agreement.

  Paw and hand meet in a high-five as cat and owner leave the bar.

  A few hours later, in a dimly lit veterinary clinic in High Wycombe, absolutely nothing happens.

  ∗ Old Age Fur-ball.

  ∗ Our vet develops a nervous tic at the sight of Brum and me. It is very reminiscent of the near-nervous-breakdown reaction of the commissioner in Pink Panther movies (played by Herbert Lom) when dealing with Inspector Clouseau.

  ∗ In case you don’t know, by the way, a lab technician dispatches a rat in exactly the same manner Sue deals with a choking baby – smashes its head down so hard on the side of a hard surface that, in the rat’s case, it’s bye-bye and thanks for all the cheese.

  I know this because a few years ago the subject featured on a radio show dealing with callers’ most embarrassing moments. This particular chap, a lab technician, spent much of his working day ‘preparing’ rats for study in this way and had become cold and automatic in his actions. The embarrassing moment came when he visited his girlfriend’s parents’ home for the first time and, nervous and edgy, sat at the table making small talk and trying to be impressive and likeable. His girlfriend’s young sister was happily playing with her hamster and plonked it on his sleeve. His mind far away, working out what to say next, he absent-mindedly picked up the hamster and slammed it down on the edge of the dining-room table. Still totally on autopilot, he then tossed it casually to one side and continued chatting, unaware of a problem until noticing the stunned faces of all around him.

  ∗ The miacis lived millions of years ago, and scientists consider it to be the earliest known link to present day cats. Unlike modern cats, the miacis was cumbersome, clumsy and extremely thick. I therefore hold the firm opinion that Brum’s links are stronger than most.

  ∗ I love this word. It suggests self-replicating, invincible, superhero powers and strikes fear into the heart: ‘SAMMY, SUPER-FECUND SHE-MONSTER’. I found it on a cat-fact website and it actually applies to all female cats. It simply means that each of the kittens in a litter may have different fathers, which is pretty amazing in itself really – your twin may be your half-brother.

  ∗ Zero productivity, zero success rate.

  ∗ I told Pete about this. Unbelievably, in response he muttered miserably, ‘That’s always happening to me, that is.’

  ∗ This is hardly surprising. One of the ingredients in most cat foods is taurine, an essential nutrient for feline well being. As taurine is the stuff they use in Red Bull and the like, the only surprise is that cats ever sleep at all, never mind for seventeen hours a day.

  ∗ Nonsense.

  ∗ Brum’s Solid Universe Theory.

  ∗ Maya has acknowledged this need for replacement seating in song. Her favourite record to date has been ‘Friday On My Mind’, and she has somehow transmuted one of this song’s most famous lines into ‘Daddy’s eating all the fishes – yeah, he’ll change settees some day’.

  ∗ Brum’s ‘industrial watching’ technique always proves rather poor. A little too ‘paws-on’.

  ∗ Many people think of me as a dull groan in the background.

  About the Author

  Chris Pascoe lives in High Wycombe with his wife, daughter and two cats (at the last count).

  Brum