Over at Murphy and Stanley's place it is last Friday of the month story day... click to read more!!!.
Normally I use a photo to prompt my stories and this is no exception; but we are also given a sentence by M&S which we have to highlight in the story... Today's offering is actually a tale I first presented on the TAKE TOO blog, which I am slowly amalgamating into this one. When I saw the prompt for this month's FFHT I immediately remembered and knew I could give the story a bit of revamp!
The story was inspired by TAKE FIFTY SIX. , which is of Edinburgh's Grassmarket taken from George IV Bridge**, and I found myself making a caption for it - which I have cut and pasted here...
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Nan in the Kitchen
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Nan sat glaring over at the woman peering through the bridge posts. 'Why doesn't she look at me?' wondered Nan. She tried waving, but the stranger was unmoved. With a sigh, she turned and headed for the kitchen, her tail swaying nonchalantly.
Nan, the finely-haired Scottish Fold feline, headed straight for the spot by the dustbin where her food was always laid out. Avril (her house slave) was very particular about this.
There had to be the rubber shower matting beneath and a layer of newspaper on top of that; preferably The Edinburgh Evening News or The Scotsman, but if she couldn't get those she'd take The Independent, which wasn't bad for an English-based paper. Nan wondered why it never occurred to the woman to take one of the other regional Scottish papers.
On top of the paper then would be set, to the left, the water bowl. Small but sufficient for any cat, "we not being dipsomaniacs like dogs", thought Nan. To the right was the larger and more interesting bowl. It was actually an elongated item with two 'cups' in it. One larger and one smaller. Nan was of the opinion that the smaller one was actually meant for the water which Avril had decided to set separately. The argument had been that if food somehow got in the water which (let's face it) was a distinct possibility, then it could fester and stink the house out. Never mind be undrinkable.
Nan considered this to be a fair argument, especially since it resulted in the spare cup being filled each evening, on Avril's return from work, with a treat. Usually something fresh and dainty, like off-cuts from the fishmonger, or finely-diced liver succulence which the downstairs butcher liked to prepare specially for her.
Nan also considered that perhaps the butcher was sweet on Avril. She didn't think the fellow held any particular regard for herself. Indeed on the occasion of Avril introducing her to - what was his name?... Wullie? - he had appeared to draw back somewhat and narrowed his eyes. What was wrong with the man? Did he not know this was an invitation to a cat? Lucky for him Nan was in her cage going to visit the doctor, or she'd have been all over him, just to get him riled.
This had become Nan's entertainment, indeed purpose, in life. To upset all Avril's suitors who came calling.
It was always particularly fun when they were wearing dark clothing. Nan being a finely-haired Scottish Fold feline with lots of white and buff colouring, she could leave her mark beautifully on a pair of woollen trews or a knitted Arran of the dark navy style so favoured by many of these fellows. No doubt about it, Avril's taste in men was predictable.
Until last night.
Last night Alan had come home with Avril. The silly house slave obviously couldn't see he was totally smitten with her and not in the leering, panting way all others had been. Avril was unquestionably a fine looking woman, but she appeared to be unable to appreciate that the sleek and suave types she fancied herself were highly unsuitable as long-term relationship prospects. None of them at all had marriage in their eye. Nan could see this, so why not Avril? Thus Nan made a total nuisance of herself to ensure these fickle, narcissistic chaps never made a return visit.
Thankfully, Avril never saw the underhanded trickery of her mistress, Nan the finely-haired Scottish Fold feline. She had enough sense, at least, to see that if these fellows couldn't like her cat then she wouldn't bother with them either.
Which was just fine with Nan.
Then last night Alan came. Nan fell drop dead in love with Alan the minute he entered the door. Firstly, he smelled gorgeous. Something in his odour reminded her of catnip and all she wanted to do was be on his shoulder and snuggle his neck. Which made for the second thing. He loved this! He even picked her up and put her against his chest then allowed her to climb. The third thing being, he wore light clothing. Not white, not buff, but oatmeal and khaki and other lovely neutral tones which matched beautifully with Nan's coat.
Needless to say Avril was astounded. Alan was a workmate and had only dropped by to collect a pile of folders that she had been working on. They had been working on the same University research team since their graduation. Nan knew this because she'd heard Avril talking to Alan on the mouthpiece thing many times.
He'd ended up staying for tea and conversation had centred on Nan and how she coped with being an inside cat, then ventured into finding they had common interests.
When Alan had left, Nan could see that Avril was in deep thought. "It was so much better than I could
ever have imagined! " thought Nan. "Invite him for dinner...invite him for dinner...invite him for dinner…" Nan sent out instructions to her house slave. It normally worked. Sometimes reinforcement was required, but mostly it worked.
So Nan, the finely-haired Scottish Fold feline, had been watching from the window to see if she could see Avril coming home and whether Alan was with her. It was getting late and no sign of her. The big bowl was empty of the morning's food and Nan was ready for whichever treat was to arrive for the evening. Where was that woman?
The sky was dark and rain had begun before Nan heard Avril's key in the door. She let out a "mmmeeeeoeororrorororo" of indignation and sat in her most disdainful pose as the hall light went on.
Then she smelled it. The catnip odour of Alan. She lost all control and majesty and ran straight for him. He, without hesitation, bent and lifted Nan up to his shoulder. Today he did have a dark jacket on. That didn't deter him though. He cuddled her and stroked her and she lapped up every bit of attention.
"Hey, what about mum?!" moaned the house slave. Nan let her get off with calling herself mum, as it aided in compliance with regular feeding. Looking across, she saw that Avril was grinning, despite the apparent complaint. Nan stuck her nose across to acknowledge 'mum' then snuggled back into Alan.
"Sorry we're late wee lass. Alan and I had to discuss a point from those files last night so we decided just to do that over a meal. Now he's come for some tea and we've brought you a very special treat!" Alan put Nan down on the floor and reached into his left pocket. He walked towards the kitchen and leaning down to the small cup of the food bowl, poured out of a plastic container some meat and gravy concoction that was clearly left from their meal. Nan couldn't help it. The inner motor started. She was highly pleased with the direction things were taking and her body set up a hum and murmur to equal any motor bike. As she dove into the scrumptious treat, from the corner of her eye she could see Alan and Avril engage in a small snuggle of their own.
"At last", she thought," the slave has brought me someone worth the having". Nan's purring, became a roar.
© Yamini Ali MacLean 2013
**For the unfamiliar, it is in a cafeteria on George IV Bridge that JK Rowling wrote a certain hairy tale of her own...
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Rotting
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Bess breathed. Deeply. The air was so clear it was painful in the lungs. Tainted with the tang of the sea. Squaring her shoulders, she took another deliberate and considered breath, right to the diaphragm. Count to ten. Out again.
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