A few weeks ago now we woke up around 3am to the sound of a cat miaowing outside the door of our first floor flat. We've lived here for over two years and no one in our block owns a cat. We opened the door and a cute little cat ran around a bit and I threw it out the front door onto the streets, in the hope it would never want to come back. I love animals but someone out there wouldn't want their beloved Ginger becoming fond of me, plus Sadie was getting ideas about it becoming a member of the household. It kept coming back though. I often find it sitting outside our door, looking up at me with it's giant watery eyes, like Puss In Boots in Shrek, and it likes to strut around our flat in it's glittery collar (it's obviously very loved) for no apparent reason. I never stroke it, I never feed it. What it wants from us is a mystery.
Then tonight, whilst watching the Phil Spector documentary, I thought I heard the tinkling of a cat collar. I put it down to paranoia and also realised it might be a sound from the telly as the Ronettes would often use jingly bells in their background music. Then I heard it again. I opened our flat door and in ran another feline, of the black and white variety. I hissed it out, as it tried to scratch me every time I went to pick it up. What the bleeding hell is going on? I have never in two and a half years had a cat come up to my flat and now there have been two in a month! Something fishy's going on. Maybe it's my penchant for stuffing my face with Omega 3 rich oily finned things these days in the hope of growing some brain cells. Maybe the faint aroma of Poisson to these cats is like a kebab shop vent to a pissed bloke. They can't resist the draw of the odour of my tuna steaks and salmon parcels. At least I'm guessing that's the reason.
And how they get into the building is completely baffling us. All very weird and very halloweeny.
Soundtrack: Squeeze-Cool for Cats
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