It was bound to happen sooner or later. Getting into my flat is always a bit tricky. Holding the door open and trying to hop in without jamming my fingers, or slipping on the rug. And every time there are two furry spectators, sitting just far enough away to be safe from my sticks. Waiting for a opportunity to head out themselves. Last night they finally made a bid for freedom.
It was around midnight. I'd been at the movies with a friend. I opened the door and the two furry creatures looked up, and then cool as cool things, strode out the door into the stairwell. Shit! I fumbled around, trying to screw up a bit of paper to entice them back in. (usually works a treat when getting them out of the living room). But I couldn't manage without letting go of the door. I propped the door open with my coat, hopped through to the kitchen, grabbed the cat food and scattered some cat biscuits in the hall. Betty, the little furry one, couldn't resist and strolled back in. But Gordito was sniffing the plants. Its a jungle out there. I shut the door and chased Betty into the kitchen. Then, armed with more biscuits I struggled back into the stairwell. Looked down. Gordito was two floors down scrutinising the neighbours' doormat. I called him. He ignored me.
Overheating and stressed I hopped downstairs with my crutches. Gordito started to pad upstairs. He passed me half way and found the biscuits I'd laid as bait outside the door. He's a greedy thing so he stopped to munch. I hopped back up and caught him. But I was unable to hold onto him, open the door, keep Betty in and hold my crutches at the same time. I sat down on the floor. Furious. But laughing. Thank goodness no one could see. Gordito ate more biscuits. Betty cried on the other side of the door. Sitting was easier though. I opened the door, threw some biscuits inside for Betty, shoved the fat one through and shut the door. Now they were inside and I was out - on the floor. It took me a few minutes of planning and a lot of manoeuvring to get back in safely. Once in I collapsed on the couch. They looked at my in puzzlement. And then Betty asked for more biscuits.
The next day, revenge was had. I didn't wake up until 11am (despite the incessant and increasingly desperate furry wrestling on my bed). The creatures had their breakfast three hours late. That'll learn them...
It was around midnight. I'd been at the movies with a friend. I opened the door and the two furry creatures looked up, and then cool as cool things, strode out the door into the stairwell. Shit! I fumbled around, trying to screw up a bit of paper to entice them back in. (usually works a treat when getting them out of the living room). But I couldn't manage without letting go of the door. I propped the door open with my coat, hopped through to the kitchen, grabbed the cat food and scattered some cat biscuits in the hall. Betty, the little furry one, couldn't resist and strolled back in. But Gordito was sniffing the plants. Its a jungle out there. I shut the door and chased Betty into the kitchen. Then, armed with more biscuits I struggled back into the stairwell. Looked down. Gordito was two floors down scrutinising the neighbours' doormat. I called him. He ignored me.
Overheating and stressed I hopped downstairs with my crutches. Gordito started to pad upstairs. He passed me half way and found the biscuits I'd laid as bait outside the door. He's a greedy thing so he stopped to munch. I hopped back up and caught him. But I was unable to hold onto him, open the door, keep Betty in and hold my crutches at the same time. I sat down on the floor. Furious. But laughing. Thank goodness no one could see. Gordito ate more biscuits. Betty cried on the other side of the door. Sitting was easier though. I opened the door, threw some biscuits inside for Betty, shoved the fat one through and shut the door. Now they were inside and I was out - on the floor. It took me a few minutes of planning and a lot of manoeuvring to get back in safely. Once in I collapsed on the couch. They looked at my in puzzlement. And then Betty asked for more biscuits.
The next day, revenge was had. I didn't wake up until 11am (despite the incessant and increasingly desperate furry wrestling on my bed). The creatures had their breakfast three hours late. That'll learn them...
No comments:
Post a Comment