If only I hadn’t said yes. If I’d only made some excuse – like they were building a motorway through the house next week or we’d just bought the children a pet crocodile. Instead, I had to say I’d have it while my sister was on holiday.
My five-year-old son had just developed mumps, so when they brought it round, we stayed indoors while they unloaded one large box and several carrier bags and heaved them over the garden gate. “I forgot to warn you. Don’t try to pick it up or it might bite you,” my sister yelled as she retreated back to her car.
Indoors, we opened the box gingerly. There is was, looking for all the world like a black fluffy kitten, but I knew better. Within minutes the settee had an enormous tear in it and its foam innards were spewing onto the floor. The budgie was terrified out of its mind and the telephone flex was chewed through.
The kitten took a shine to the telephone engineer. No sooner had we let him in than this mad ball of fur threw itself at him, claws and teeth sinking into bare flesh. Just before he fainted, he murmured something about not having had a tetanus injection.
The next time he came he was dressed in leather jacket, leather trousers, boots, protective goggles and gloves and crash helmet. There being no sign of the monster, he cautiously removed a glove. Suddenly something streaked downstairs and leapt at that appetising pink flesh. We applied a tourniquet and took the half dead man to the hospital. We never saw him again.
My sister had left three giant size tins of cat food. “These will last four days each,” she told me gaily. Never! The voracious beast ate the lot in a week. As its Dracula teeth got very little practice on this mush, it decided to substitute human flesh. At every opportunity it would sink its teeth into anything that moved. Making the bed was a virtuosity of ingenuity.
Turning into a room, you would suddenly be tackled. Those sharp teeth and claws would dig in and stay clamped with a strength an all-in wrestler would have been proud of.
I schemed. Would it drown if I accidentally put it in with the washing? How about the microwave? I did not stop the children when I found them in the garden playing ball with the kitten. That is, Jaws was the ball. Time and again he flew into the air at a swipe from the children’s tennis bats.
I dumped it outside and shut the door firmly, but with the flexibility of a mountain goat it scaled the walls of the house, took a flying leap from the roof of the kitchen, propelling itself upwards with a thrust worthy of an ascending helicopter, and landed on the open window of an upstairs bedroom. It hauled itself up by the tips of its claws and had shredded the sheets before I could get up there. It bared its teeth at me and got ready to pounce. I shut the door but within minutes, it had scratched a hole big enough to escape.
I upended the metal kitchen bin and slammed it over the top of the beast and sat on it. For a frenzied moment, I could hear it spinning around then all went quiet. After five minutes, I tipped the bin up a fraction. It was all the monster needed. It streaked out and made for my jugular. My husband tipped ice cold water over it and it let go long enough for us to rush out into the garden. We slept in the shed overnight.
Tomorrow, the beast was disappearing from our house forever. I think it sensed something and was, blissfully, a little subdued when we cautiously opened the back door and went inside.
I lost only half a pint of blood during the bed making ritual and it actually seemed half hearted about attacking the postman, who managed to save himself by protecting himself with some exclusive, never to be taken again photographs. They shredded beautifully.
When the appointed time came and went, I began to feel some misgivings. The cat was fast asleep when the phone rang, dreaming no doubt of the successful day’s hunting. I picked it up and heard the far away voice with sinking heart. “Shirley here. I’m afraid there’s some trouble at the airport. We won’t be able to get home for at least a fortnight. See you then.”
I went into the sitting room to break the news to my family. The cat was just waking and I saw in its eyes that vicious gleam I had come to know so well. Ah, if only ………
My five-year-old son had just developed mumps, so when they brought it round, we stayed indoors while they unloaded one large box and several carrier bags and heaved them over the garden gate. “I forgot to warn you. Don’t try to pick it up or it might bite you,” my sister yelled as she retreated back to her car.
Indoors, we opened the box gingerly. There is was, looking for all the world like a black fluffy kitten, but I knew better. Within minutes the settee had an enormous tear in it and its foam innards were spewing onto the floor. The budgie was terrified out of its mind and the telephone flex was chewed through.
The kitten took a shine to the telephone engineer. No sooner had we let him in than this mad ball of fur threw itself at him, claws and teeth sinking into bare flesh. Just before he fainted, he murmured something about not having had a tetanus injection.
The next time he came he was dressed in leather jacket, leather trousers, boots, protective goggles and gloves and crash helmet. There being no sign of the monster, he cautiously removed a glove. Suddenly something streaked downstairs and leapt at that appetising pink flesh. We applied a tourniquet and took the half dead man to the hospital. We never saw him again.
My sister had left three giant size tins of cat food. “These will last four days each,” she told me gaily. Never! The voracious beast ate the lot in a week. As its Dracula teeth got very little practice on this mush, it decided to substitute human flesh. At every opportunity it would sink its teeth into anything that moved. Making the bed was a virtuosity of ingenuity.
Turning into a room, you would suddenly be tackled. Those sharp teeth and claws would dig in and stay clamped with a strength an all-in wrestler would have been proud of.
I schemed. Would it drown if I accidentally put it in with the washing? How about the microwave? I did not stop the children when I found them in the garden playing ball with the kitten. That is, Jaws was the ball. Time and again he flew into the air at a swipe from the children’s tennis bats.
I dumped it outside and shut the door firmly, but with the flexibility of a mountain goat it scaled the walls of the house, took a flying leap from the roof of the kitchen, propelling itself upwards with a thrust worthy of an ascending helicopter, and landed on the open window of an upstairs bedroom. It hauled itself up by the tips of its claws and had shredded the sheets before I could get up there. It bared its teeth at me and got ready to pounce. I shut the door but within minutes, it had scratched a hole big enough to escape.
I upended the metal kitchen bin and slammed it over the top of the beast and sat on it. For a frenzied moment, I could hear it spinning around then all went quiet. After five minutes, I tipped the bin up a fraction. It was all the monster needed. It streaked out and made for my jugular. My husband tipped ice cold water over it and it let go long enough for us to rush out into the garden. We slept in the shed overnight.
Tomorrow, the beast was disappearing from our house forever. I think it sensed something and was, blissfully, a little subdued when we cautiously opened the back door and went inside.
I lost only half a pint of blood during the bed making ritual and it actually seemed half hearted about attacking the postman, who managed to save himself by protecting himself with some exclusive, never to be taken again photographs. They shredded beautifully.
When the appointed time came and went, I began to feel some misgivings. The cat was fast asleep when the phone rang, dreaming no doubt of the successful day’s hunting. I picked it up and heard the far away voice with sinking heart. “Shirley here. I’m afraid there’s some trouble at the airport. We won’t be able to get home for at least a fortnight. See you then.”
I went into the sitting room to break the news to my family. The cat was just waking and I saw in its eyes that vicious gleam I had come to know so well. Ah, if only ………