Reflections of a Seal-Point Siamese

By Cath Aven

Reflections of a Seal-Point Siamese Chapter one Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tarquin. I am an adorable seal-point Siamese cat of the finest pedigree. I live with my owner, Lydia, in a pied--terre in Mayfair, London. We have only just recently moved there. We used to live in the country, however, Lydia wanted to be nearer to her office in Piccadilly. I haven't quite decided on which home I prefer, but what I particularly did not enjoy was enduring the refurbishment of our new abode. Six weeks ago, the apartment was descended upon by six sweaty, rotund, uncouth builders. As if the drilling and hammering wasn't bad enough, I also had to contend with their foul-mouthed rantings throughout the day. One burly red-faced fellow even had the audacity to try to give me a piece of a vile product called a pork pie; the stench emitting from it was repulsive. I almost ejected a fur ball at the very notion of its consumption. Particularly galling was when they had been to the local pub for lunch. They would return reeking of cheap beer, belching noxious fumes in my vicinity. The pork pie fellow would invariably try to converse with me. His huge puffy face would loom down. Droplets of saliva would cascade over my silken glossy coat as he proceeded to repeatedly slur, Here kitty kitty. I did my very best to ignore him, but he seemed to take that as some kind of challenge to engage with me. On the last occasion there was nothing else for it: I was compelled to launch a protracted claw assault on his large bulbous nose. He leapt back, clutching his bleeding conk and promptly stepped into a bucket of white emulsion. His colleagues appeared to find it uproariously funny. I thought it best to retire, for a short time, into my garden. Its only a small garden, but it contains a variety of colourful fragrant shrubs and flowers that attract butterflies, bees and wasps. I particularly enjoy catching the butterflies, but when you catch bees or wasps they retaliate by giving you a nasty sting. It's very annoying because they buzz around your head, as if to dare you to entrap them. Another disadvantage of our garden is the barking mutt next door. He really is a stupid creature. He seems to bark at anything that moves, for no apparent reason; its quite impossible to have a siesta. Whenever I get the opportunity I slash his snout through our fence. He quickly retreats, whining pitifully. At least it stops him barking, albeit for a short time. His owner made a complaint to Lydia about me. Fortunately, she is a rather protective mummy and told him in a terse voice that he should keep his dog under control, or she would be reporting him for noise pollution. He scurried off mumbling something about consulting his lawyer on the laws of keeping a dangerous animal. Lydia gave a dismissive laugh, took me in her arms and gently patted my back. I am glad that they are not friendly with each other, as her dalliances with the male species have never been very successful. Her last suitor was a curious chap called Cedric. The most noticeable thing about Cedric was the coarse red hair sprouting from his ears. Whenever he spoke his head would bob about like a duckling on wavy water. It made his ear hair look as if it was performing some kind of weird rhythmic mating ritual. I simply couldnt resist stopping this hairy mass in its tracks by swiftly launching my best trapping paw at it. Cedric screamed and accused me of attacking him. His nostrils widened as he aggressively sneered

that I should be taken to the veterinary surgeon for a permanent nap. I didnt hear much more, as all could see from his gaping nostrils was another mass of dark, stubbly red hair. It was swaying around, in what appeared to be a dance akin to the dashing white sergeant. I didnt need to hear a starting pistol. I knew I had to act quickly before it escaped. My paw sped through the air at the speed of a frightened greyhound; slash! I could feel the hair between my manicured claws: but it wasnt yielding easily. No, this was a two-paw job. I steadied myself on my hind legs, then grabbed Cedrics nose firmly between my outstretched paws; claws fully extended for action. It was very satisfying to see the escapee hair glisten with Cedrics blood. Now, instead of showing me some appreciation, of ridding his nose of this ugly invader, Cedric decided to swipe my head with his hand. I fell to the floor just as mummy emerged from the kitchen. What on earth is going on Cedric? - did you just hit Tarquin? Clutching his nose, Cedrics voice quivered as he stammered, It... it was him that started it: he pounced on me out of nowhere and attempted to rip out my eyes! Mummy seemed to visibly expand as she stood with raised shoulders, her hands on her hips and her fists clenched. Oh did he now? Isnt it strange that in all the years Ive had Tarquin he has been as gentle as a new born lamb? I gazed at mummy admiringly from the position I had landed in ( I thought that it was best not to move too rapidly, in case Cedric had caused me a spinal injury and, of course, to let her know how viciously he had assaulted me). Get out of my house now you vile, repulsive cat hater, and consider yourself fortunate that I havent called the police! Cedric appeared to have shrunk in size, as he picked up his jacket and scuttled out of the door. Come to mummy Tarquin, that nasty man wont hurt you again. Mummy scooped me up into her arms and rubbed her fine black hair against my head. I thought, maybe you can make me feel better by giving me some of that lovely fresh salmon you were cooking for Cedric. As if she could read my mind she said, Ive got something tasty that will cheer you up darling... That was Cedric, now let me tell you about Sebastian

VIEW MY WEB PAGE HERE