A Cat In Wolf’s Clothing*

“Are you free?” A message comes through.  From my Seb, of course.

“Yes,” I say.  “Call the flat.”  I’m just home from the office.  

The phone rings.

“Hello my darling,” I say.

“Hello,” he says, in his mellifluous drawl.  He has the richest timbre to his voice.

“I’m glad it’s you,” I say, turning the vegetables in my omelette pan.  Today’s omelette vegetables are asparagus, cauliflower, broccoli and mushrooms.

“How was your day?” He says.

“Oh, it was OK,” I say.  “You?”

“I’m still at my Mum’s,” he says.  “My brother’s here.”

“Cuddle to all the pets,” I say.  “Particularly to my favourite cat person.”  My fluffy monster’s uncle, that is.  A huge fluffy Ragdoll cat with blue eyes and a warm, affectionate personality.

“I’ve already cuddled him from you,” Seb says.  “You’ve made me see him in a different light: now I can see what a great person he is.”

“Good,” I say.  

“Always found him a bit difficult before,” he says.  “And…”

“That’s because his sister is your favourite,” I say.  She is the mother of my fluffy monster.

“She demands attention,” Seb says.  “Gets aggressive if she doesn’t get a prawn immediately.  He’s such a loving calm cat.”

Like me, I think.  He reminds me of me.  But I don’t say it.

“What are you doing?” He says.

“Just making my omelette,” I say, pouring the eggs in.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says.

“Love to the family,” I say.

“Goodnight darling,” he says.

Love that boy.

Attached photo is the fluffy monster.  Miss him.

Happy Wednesday everyone!
*2012.  By Lydia Adamson.  “A cat, a mouse and two corpses equal a menagerie of murder for actress turned cat-sitting sleuth Alice Nestleton.”