Pussy Paranoia

Now, my freaky, fidgety, feline fellow inmate, Tiger, wants to say a few words:

I run here, I run there. Got to keep on the move. I can appear or disappear in the blink of a cat-flap. I'm sly, I'm sleek, I'm more street-savvy than Old Mellow Marmaduke. My coat is streaked with go-faster stripes and I've heard the humans (my cat-captors) say that I've an evil smile. This, I reserve for them. Next door, I'm Snugglepuss and that's another tale.

Today, I felt more freaked than ever. The ringleader of the tormentors came looking for me. Caught off-guard lounging on the logs in the autumn sun like a snake, I was well and truly rattled. As he slipped back to tell his conspirator my location, I sneaked along the wall behind him, ears pricked.

I eavesdropped on a phone call She was making to her mother. They had been going out for the day but they had to stop along the way. They had to stop to see if the deceased creature at the kerbside was me or just cat carrion. I gather that they weren't completely certain. So they went to Costa for a coffee. Then they did some shopping. And then they came back to see if I was around. Was He checking to see if he'd got the right one? Surely not; after all, they were supposed to be going out for a day with the children and He wouldn't want to miss that. Even that headless rat incident yesterday wouldn't drive him to that. Would it? Hmmm..... Very unsettling.

I'm telling you all this just in case. Just in case something happens to me so you know who did it. In the meantime, my thoughts are with the poor chap who lies assassinated on the grass verge and may his feline family be comforted by the knowledge that I will continue the good work. Marmaduke calls me paranoid and I call him complacent. We'll see how cool he is when he's fox-fodder at the roadside.