The continuing adventures of Cinnamon Cricket and her cat, Hoot…
Hoot and I are in a staring competition. He’s very good at staring. I either fall asleep or cry because my eyes run out of eye juice and that doesn’t feel good. So far, I’m doing neither of those things. I’m winning! Hoot is a very pretty cat. He’s blonde all over with orange stripes on his head. I hope I have orange stripes on my head one day. Dad has orange so apparently there’s a good chance I’ll have orange too. Mum thinks this is fabulous news! Dad doesn’t, I don’t know why.
Hoot and I are learning each other’s languages! I’ve learnt that ears back means pat my head and he’s learnt that wah-wah-wah means run off and get Mum. He’s not very good at actually getting Mum yet. Hoot blinks and swishes his tail. I want to grab his fur because it feels like warm squish so I reach both my arms out to his face. His ears flatten! He wants me to pat him! Just as I’m about to reach an ear he runs off and I don’t even need him to get Mum! He’s such an enigma.
I’m lodging a complaint. The mutant’s hands are always sticky. Always. Sticky. This is unacceptable. I am a direct descendant of Wong Mau. My people were once worshipped in Burmese temples as embodiments of Gods. Gods. On what planet do you think sticky, mutant, jam fingers on a God is reasonable? This is not tolerable, human, and I demand recompense. Do you know how long it takes to lick jam out of purebred, blonde fur? Long, idiot, long. My demands for restitution are below. Until they are met I will be leaving you and the co-manager a strategically placed vomit at an undisclosed location within the domiciliary at precisely 4.04am every, single, day. It will have rotting meat, fusty furballs, and jam in it. You’re welcome.
- The mutant must not be fed real food, ever again. Milk or die.
- A hammock suspended above the fridge.
- My own catnip farm (in my name).
Thiha Archibald Hootentoot the Third
Hoot doesn’t come back. We need to work on that. But the mail is here! And there’s a package from Grandma! Mum helps me open it and inside is a tambourine (OMG!!!), a postcard from New Zealand and a CD that says Jitterbug. WOW!
Stay tuned for more…