by Fin J. Ross
'Hey, what's happened here boy? Your ear's bleeding, what have you been up to? You just wait there while I go get something for that.'
I hear Miss Steph walking back towards the door.
'Pttthh pthhhh… ' Rocky spits. 'Just as well she didn't see the mouthful of Humbug I just spat out.'
Everyone has a giggle. Then I hear the other Megsy and Choux-Fleur giggling between themselves.
'Yeah, I didn't think a feeli could get that fat either,' Choux-Fleur says, obviously in response to a comment from Megsy that I didn't hear.
'She's so fat she looks like a pumpkin with legs.'
Okay, so now my ears are pricked and so's my back. 'Yeah, well you call yourself a ginger? You're so faded, you've either spent too much time in the sun or you've been bitten by the insipid bug,' I spit back. 'And as for you, vegetable head, you must be really slow to have not been able to outrun those snails.' I hear no more giggling to that retort, so I figure they know where they stand with me now.
Miss Steph returns and I hear her performing first aid on Rocky.
'Now don't go licking that, boy,' she says.
I hear a kiss, followed by some more deafening quirrelling. Miss Steph starts doing the rounds and before long I can hear a crescendo of mehs and quirrelling as everyone gets their own bit of personal attention. The sounds of contentment are momentarily interrupted by Rocky.
'Pttthh pthhhh… Yuck, that tastes awful.'
I start to claw and pronkledonk my pillow in expectation. Just getting myself in the mood, you know.
'Ooh, you're such a gorgeous girl… your eyeliner is just so perfect,' Miss Steph says.
'Yes, yes I know,' Zsa Zsa agrees. 'I've been told I'm even more attractive than Ingrid Birman.'
I crack up. 'Yeah, and as funny as Phyllis Burmilla.'
'Oh, ha ha,' Zsa Zsa replies sarcatically.
'Yes you're just so beautiful,' Miss Steph continues, 'you look just like um-'
'Catty Zeta Jones? Nicole Kitten?' Zsa Zsa suggests.
'Blofeld's cat,' Miss Steph says. 'Yes, just like Blofeld's cat.'
That one's lost on me. Miss Steph is holding Zsa Zsa and stroking her, while looking through the wire window - at me. She shakes her head slowly. 'Some cats just get all the breaks, don't they Zsa Zsa?'
Zsa Zsa head butts her in agreement. 'Yes,' she quirrels, 'you just can't beat good breeding, can you Miss Steph. A true pedigree, that's me.'
'I'm sure she can't understand you, Zsa Zsa,' I point out.
'But you know,' Miss Steph whispers to Zsa Zsa, 'as far as I'm concerned, nothing beats a good old moggie. There's just no airs and graces with a moggie,' she whispers, and-
Wait a sec; was that a wink? Did she really wink at me?
Zsa Zsa immediately bristles and presses her paws into Miss Steph's chest trying to get as far from her face as possible.
'What's a moggie?' I ask her.
'A wuzzer. A stupid, ordinary wuzzer - like you,' Zsa Zsa spits.
'Oh, really?' I smile and poke my tongue out at her. She starts to look pre-schpitzo and I figure Miss Steph had better be careful. Hell hath no fury like a feeli scorned. Zsa Zsa jumps away from Miss Steph and I hear the thump as she lands back on her shelf.
'Oh, goodnight then, cranky pants,' Miss Steph says as she shuts Zsa Zsa's gate.
Ooh, ooh, she's coming. I start to pronkledonk my pillow again. I tip my head to the side slightly and then, as she approaches, I roll my head into a demi-ipwod.
Only special deuxjambs who I trust ever get my ipwod.
She looks quite funny upside down. She seems to get the hint though, as she gently scratches my upturned chin and neck. Now she's tickling my chest and armpit. I roll a bit more into a full-ipwod. And she starts to rub my tummy.
'Ooh ooh, ah ah… ooh,' I quirrel uncontrollably. My tongue flops out to catch a dribble drip.
'You sound like Megsy Ryan having an organism,' Maharani calls out.
'Next best thing,' I reply. 'And by the way-'
'Oh you're such a chubby bubby, a floppy moggie, a flabby slab, aren't you,' Miss Steph says as she rubs my tummy so vigorously I can't even speak.
I should be taking exception to her comments but then this just feels sooooo good. 'Flubby dubs, flabby flanks; oh you're just so squidgee, what a honey bunch.'
I start to wonder who's enjoying this more. I realise that I don't mind what names she calls me - so long as she calls me. She can say whatever she likes so long as I get this treatment every day. I quirrel as loud as I can and she rubs some more. I figure I've got this worked out now.
'Nighty night then, girl, you sleep tight now.'
'Yes, I will thank you. I couldn't be more relaxed if I tried. In fact I might just nod-'
I'm curled up in my favourite spot. Hayoo's rhythmic breathing is like a gentle shiatsu massage on my back. I regulate my breathing to match hers and I'm floating on a wave of euphoria. Life just doesn't get any better than this. But, hang on, why's she prodding me like that? She's still asleep and yet she's prodding me on the shoulder, softly at first and then harder and more urgently.
'What, what?' I wave my paw distractedly
'Juno, Juno wake up.'
'Huh?'
'Fuuuudgepuddle!' I hear the word the same moment I feel hot breath in my ear. My eyes snap open and I'm instantly brought back to reality and I'm eye to eye with the smallest face in the feeli world.
'What, Raffles? What's the big emergency? Is the place on fire or something?'
'No, don't be silly. But you are missing the party.'
'Party? Did I hear party?'
'Yep, we're having a midnight feast.'
Now I'm really awake. And I can smell tuna!
My feet barely touch the ramp before I hit the floor running. Everyone's there ahead of me in a big circle and they're all licking their lips and quirrelling contentedly. In the middle, a pile of kitzbitz is spilled out of a bag and there's a pile of flat, shiny green and silver things with tuna squidging out of them. Yum!
Red and Mars are performing a strange manoeuvre. Red's stomping on one end of the shiny creature - probably to knock it out - and Mars is licking up the tuna as it spurts out its mouth.
I had no idea that was what they looked like before they were killed. Hayoo never had live ones, so I've only ever had them out of a can.
A few other dead ones are lying around. Big Dan is sitting there licking his paw and washing his face. He looks very satisfied. He puts his foot on one of the shiny things and flips it over to me.
'Here, I saved you one. We thought you were never going to wake up.'
'Huh? I just dropped off for a second or two.'
'More like two hours, girl; a good two hours.'
'You're kidding. Cor, it seemed like just a few seconds.' I start pawing the shiny creature. 'I see you've already killed it for me, thanks Big Dan.'
'Huh?' Big Dan pulls his head back a bit and frowns at me. 'What do you mean?' He takes a couple of steps towards me. 'Just step on this end and it'll squeeze out there.'
I follow his instructions and start lapping up the succulent treat. It suddenly dawns on me that this is probably not a regular occurrence.
'Where did this come from?'
'Well you can thank Raffles for this. Not only did he figure out how to open the door into the kitchen, he also worked out how to use the choppertine in the office to cut these open,' Big Dan explains.
With that, Raffles trots in the door with another one in his mouth. He comes towards me and drops it on the floor.
'Okay, who has only had one?'
'Me, me,' I say, jigging up and down.
'Well it's the last one, so make the most of it,' Raffles says.
'Yum, thanks kid.' I polish off the tuna in no time while keeping an eye on what everyone else is up to.
Lara seems to be teaching Choux-Fleur some nifty ballet manoeuvres; Humbug is licking a wound on his shoulder; Big Dan looks like he's trying hard not to fall asleep sitting up; Zs
a Zsa is pacing up and down and gesturing at Maharani to copy her moves; the three Rs - Rabbit, Rog and Rocky - are deep in conversation and looking decidedly conspiratorial; Finny is looking ditzy, while singing Oops I did it again; and Monty, Red and Mars look like they're attempting some weird two-legged balancing act.
Well, they're an entertaining lot, I'll give them that. I feel a bit left out, I confess, so I wander back to my suite for a midnight zilly.
I realise now it was hours ago that I was contemplating what to make out of my kackapod paper. Between dizza and escaping our pens and boxing matches and midnight feasts, it's been quite a night.
I carefully pull the paper out of my kackapod with my teeth - managing to slide the pellets off into the kackapod without spilling any - and lay it on the floor to make sure I don't get it wet.
I step into the kackapod and circle around and shuffle the pellets to one end. I pause and look behind me to make sure it's a neat pile. Nope. A bit more adjustment. There. I squat to- Okay you don't need to know that. I stare at the corner of the pen, for no particular reason, it's just that that's the way I'm facing. My mind wanders off to Weeras, as it usually does when I'm concentrating on nothing much in particular.
I finally finish what turns out to be a substantial zilly and am much relieved. After doing a meticulous job of covering everything up so I can't smell it, I get to thinking about my new-found talent - origami. Who knew!
I'm thinking about a queekee, maybe a long-legged thing like the ones that prance around my front garden; like Hayoo does in her tall shoes, but more graceful than her.
I start with some accurately placed folds, a bit of batting and some elbow creasing and it starts to take shape.
'Whatcha making?' Maharani asks casually as she wanders into my pen.
'One of those long-legged queekees.'
'Hmm,' Maharani comments. She doesn't sound very convinced.
I look up at her and then do a double take. There's something strange about her face. 'What have you done to your eyes?'
'Oh yeah, do you like it? Zsa Zsa's just been showing me how to put eye liner on. Do you think I look sophisticated?'
'Um… sultry, very sultry.'
'Zsa Zsa says I look like Cleocatra, do you think so?'
'Cleocatra's a bit of a stretch. I'd have said, ah, Alice Cooper maybe.'
'Alice Cooper? Who's she? Is she very attractive?'
How can I not laugh? I mean, I thought I was thick sometimes. 'Yes, very,' I nod reassuringly. 'Anyway, as I was saying, I'm making one of those long-legged queekees.'
'So where are its legs?'
'Yeah, well that's the problem. I haven't got enough paper. So I guess it'll just be a long-legged queekee sitting down.'
'Why don't you just make a short-legged queekee?'
'Huh?' I'm just about to tell her to mind her own business when Raffles bowls up.
'Hey, that's neat,' he says, 'it looks like a flabinko sitting down.'
'Ha!' I laugh and pull a face at Maharani. 'See he knows what I'm doing.'
'Why don't you give the poor thing some legs?' Raffles asks.
'You shut up, Maharani,' I get in first before she even gets to open her mouth. 'Because I haven't got enough paper, that's why.'
'Oh I can fix that, stay right here, I'll be back in a sec.'
True to his word, he's back just about before he was gone, and he's got several sheets of yellow paper in his mouth. He drops them on the floor and then paws one off the top.
'Here, have these. I'm gonna make another floomy out of this piece.'
'Thanks kid. Hey I could make all sorts of things out of this.'
I get to folding, but muck up the first leg, making it too short. A bit of on-the-spot redesigning and I turn the gammy leg into a beak. Big Dan appears at my gate. He's got a mouth full of empty tunas. He places them gently on the floor before speaking.
'I thought we'd better clean up the mess or Miss Steph will get suspicious. Maybe she'll just forget she had all these on the shelf in there. Who's going to help?'
'Yeah, yeah I'll help,' Raffles volunteers. Such an amiable young chap he is. Do anything for anyone, I get the impression. For some reason he reminds me of those slobbery, doofus bring-back quiffos. I wonder how someone so young could be so clued in. I don't know why, but he makes me think of my kisskies. I can only hope they turned out to be street smart like me and I hope they've discovered their talents. I didn't have enough time with them to teach them to have confidence in themselves.
'What's up?' Big Dan asks, startling me from my reveries. 'You looked really down in the dumps then.'
'Nah, I'm okay. I was just thinking about my kisskies. I had six you know. Beautiful they were.'
Big Dan tips his head as a sign of interest so I figure he wants to hear more. 'Yes, they were all different. Ori, he was really handsome - all black with just a tiny white spot on his chest, but he'd do this with his eyebrows and look very intelligent; enlightened, even. Arni, he was a really stocky little thing; a perfectly symmetrical teezee; he had the most beautiful markings. I'd look at him and wonder how I'd created something so perfect. Then there was Erna; Erna was gorgeous. She looked, well she looked just like me, but with not as much white. I'm sure she'll have grown up to be very attractive.
Unfortunately the same couldn't be said of Arelli. She was, ummm, plain; just plain and ordinary, a nondescript sort of black and brown. But she was clever and resourceful and she knew how to get her way; a bit of a bossy boots really. Inda was next. He was a bit smaller than the others and was fuzzy and grey, except for one foot which looked like he'd stepped in a saucer of yellum. And he was very, very mischievous but also a bit of a sooky pants and was always the first to come running to me with some drama or another. But he was lovely and he had the loudest quirrel I've ever heard.' I smile at Big Dan and he seems to acknowledge my pride. 'So there you have it.'
'But you've missed one, you said you had six.'
'Ooh,' I put my paw to my mouth, 'oops. The last one was Sizi, definitely the prettiest of them all. You know, I think she had a bit of all the others thrown in. Her coat was like a jigsaw puzzle, with black and white and ginger and grey and even some stripes; very hard to describe. She thought she was ugly; that when I made her I couldn't decide what I wanted, like an artist using up the leftover colours on her palette. But I used to tell her that she was the luckiest; that the other five were my experiments to determine the most attractive combination of colours. That always cheered her up.'
Big Dan nods in understanding. 'You sound like a very proud mother. I presume though that they all went to Weeras?' It was really more of a statement than a question.
'Yes, they all went separately. Goodness only knows where they are now.'
'So you only had one possel of kisskies?'
'Yes. Just the one. For some reason, after that, actually after that day at Slippery Sam's when I came home with a sore belly and a most unattractive square stubble here,' I point to my side, 'I just didn't have any bucho any more. And for some reason, the guys around the neighbourhood just didn't seem interested in me again. Why do you suppose that is Big Dan? Aren't I attractive any more?'
'Oh, on the contrary Juno, I think you're very attractive. It's just that the deuxjambs have taken away your bucho and your ability to have more kisskies, just as they've taken away my bucho to help make them.'
'Oh.' I pretend to understand. 'But what gives them the right to do that to us?'
'Well Juno, I've pondered that question myself for quite a long time. And I've come to the conclusion that it's because they don't want the world to have more of us than them. I think they'd feel, um, intimidated, you know?'
'Hey you could be right. It's sort of like us wishing there weren't so many quiffos around.'
'Yeah, sort of. But then the deuxjambs seem to like quiffos too, and it doesn't stop them limiting the number of mini-quiffs as well.'
'You mean quiffos get de-buchoed too?'
'Yes, they d
o.'
'Ha, ha. Well I never. So that means, let me get this straight, that means if quiffos weren't de-buchoed, there'd be squillions of them.'
'Yes, I guess so.'
'Maybe that's fair then. I guess if there were that many quiffos and mini-quiffs around, life would be pretty miserable for us, wouldn't it?'
'Now that you mention it, you're probably right about that. Anyway, at least you did get to have a possel; most feelis don't, you know. Except maybe the ecsotiques.'
'Hmm, that figures. Those darn pedigrees get all the breaks. Spoilt as they are.'
Big Dan gives me one of those you-shouldn't-have-said-that looks and I immediately realise my faux pas. 'Oh, sorry, I didn't mean you.' I wish I could take the words back.
'Hey girl, I'm a big boy. I wasn't about to take it personally you know.' He steps forward purposefully and dops my forehead and then steps back and smiles.
De-buchoed or not, I can't help quirrelling. Nor can I subdue the urge to dop him back. I feel so pussano I can barely sit up straight. I conjure this perfect image of Big Dan putting his kackapod right next to mine.
'Hey, that's a neat flabinko,' Big Dan says, interrupting my train of thought again. 'It's brilliant; so realistic.'
Oosh! I could hardly get any more blubbery. This guy just knows how to push my bucho buttons - even if I don't have them any more.
'Oh, thanks,' I say, coming over all embarrassed. I just can't look at him, coz it's not like I'm used to getting compliments.
'Just wait until Miss Steph sees that. She'll think you're a star. She'll want to display it somewhere. Hey you know, you could become famous. I mean not many feelis can do origami; at least none that I've heard of.'
'No. She won't even notice, I bet. She didn't notice my wimby yesterday. She just stepped on it and squashed it. Talk about deflating.'
'Maybe she didn't mean to. She mightn't have realised what it was. Hey, why don't we put it up on the shelf so she can't step on it. Maybe she'll notice it then.'
'I guess. It's worth a try.'
Pussyfootin' on the Ritz
I don't know what time it was that we finally went to bed, but at the moment I feel like I've got a rubber band stretched around my forehead. I groan just like Darling and Hayoo do when they have a late night and drink too much of that red stuff from those spindly glasses. Now I know just how they feel. I don't want to get out of bed either.
