What a peculiar day.

I gaze mournfully out of the back windows and try to reconcile the black, rain-slicked image with the bright sunlight of earlier in the day.  It’s hard to accept that only a few hours ago I was happily chasing butterflies (evil, nasty things they are…  They deserve death…) around the front yard after having spent most of the morning basking in the warmth of the sun.

It all seemed to go downhill from that point onwards.

First, that revolting excuse for a woman, Mrs Fat Cow, turned the hose on me - I was simply *sitting* on her fence.  I was not, contrary to her deluded opinion, casting a hex on her slum.  And she did so with such force that I tumbled backwards and landed in the hedge.  I then noticed (call it feline intuition) that the weather was suddenly going to take a turn for the worse and only *just* made it in through my cat door before the rain came bucketing down.

So much for that glorified idiot on the television saying that it was going to be a ‘lovely day, without so much as dark cloud in the sky’.  Whatever drugs weather reporters are on should be outlawed.  I mean, why should they be allowed to live in blissful ignorance when the rest of us are supposed to *accept* their half-baked theories on the weather?  They may as well read the tarot.  It couldn’t be any worse than their current success rate.

Since then I’ve been effectively trapped inside.  A long and leisurely nap managed to obliterate most of the afternoon.  To liven myself up a little, I then felt oddly compelled to do a few laps of the apartment, ducking and weaving between furniture legs, before taking out my frustrations on my scratching post.

Now I’m just bored.

Well, more to the point, not only am I bored, but I’m also concerned about Chris.  He’s not home yet and I wonder where he is.  The bag that always signals his imminent departure is still on top of the cupboard (I’ve checked…) and even if he’s going out (read - staying at Sam’s…) he always calls in here first or arranges for some minion to come and feed me.

A gnawing sense of unease settles over me as I continue to stare morosely at the rain drenched tombstones.  The black of night and the matt grey of the cemetery complements my dismal mood wonderfully.

I’m half asleep when I suddenly hear movement at the front door, and, allowing my natural aloofness to slip (for once…) I get up and bolt towards to the entrance.

First in the door is Sam.

// Hello, Sam.  Where’s Chris? //

Second in the door is Backup.

// Hello, Backup.  Please get out of my way. //

Both are uncharacteristically quiet, but I ignore this and, weaving between their legs, go and peer out the front door.

No Chris.

Not liking the look of this, I retreat slowly inside and wail loudly.

"Come on, Sam, cheer up.  It could have been far worse."

Sam grunts.  "It needn’t have happened in the first place."

"No.  You’ll get no argument from me there, but there’s no point dwelling on it.  What’s done is done and all that rubbish."

"Try telling that to Chris when the pain-killers wear off."

I sidle up to where Sam is standing in the middle of the living room and wail again.

// *Where’s* Chris? //

Sam looks down at me, and, to my infinite surprise, bends down and picks me up.  "Hello, Mishy."  He holds me gently and it feels rather nice.  Like when Chris, for usually no reason, decides to cart me around for a while.

// Come on, Sam, how many times do I have to ask the same question? Where’s Chris? //

Backup stops picking through magazines on the coffee table and peers at me. "It’s a good job we came by, we’d better feed her while we’re here.  From the racket she’s making she must be starving."

// Am not!  Silly girl.  If I was hungry I would have stuck my claws in your leg.  Besides, I lose my appetite when I’m worried. //

Sam strokes my head absent-mindedly and answers Backup as he wanders into the bedroom.  "She’s not hungry, she’s looking for Chris."

My word!  Since when did Sam get so good at translating feline?  I’m impressed and tell him so.

// Well done, Sam, you’re right. //

Putting me down gently on the bed, Sam goes over to the chest of drawers and continues muttering away to me.  "It’s okay, Mishy, he’s in hospital."  He sighs deeply.  "We were jumped this afternoon by some Neanderthal that was high as a kite on something and Chris came off second best."

// Oh. //

I can’t think of anything else to say.

Backup appears in the doorway with an array of magazines in her arms.  She giggles as she looks from Sam to where I am on the bed.  "I never thought I’d see the day that you, Sam, were talking to a cat."

"Yeah, well…  It’s either that or she’ll shred my ankle.  To my utter *delight* I am beginning to slowly adapt to life with a Siamese."  He holds up a pair of silk pyjamas momentarily before scowling at them and quickly shoving them back in the drawer.

"Hey, they were nice.  Why don’t you take them?"

"Not on your life.  I didn’t like the way that male nurse was looking at him."  Sam pulls out another pair of pyjamas and an evil grin flits over his features.  Said pyjamas are covered in *huge* polka-dots.  "Perfect."

Backup laughs again.  "He’ll kill you!"

"He’d have to catch me first, and I’m quietly confident about that being beyond his current capabilities.  I think they’ll do just wonderfully."  Sam grabs an overnight bag and hastily fills it with the pyjamas, the magazines, and a few other items of clothing.

I watch all of this with interest.

// I want to see Chris! //

Clothing obtained, Backup and Sam leave the bedroom and, hopping off the bed, I follow them.  Sam detours through the bathroom and comes out with a toiletry bag that is quickly shoved in the bigger bag.  "Is that all we had to get?"

"Uh-huh."  Backup nods.  "We’d better be getting back then."

"Mmm…" Sounding uncertain, Sam looks at me as I huddle forlornly on the floor near the sofa.

// Take me with you! //

Shaking his head, Sam strides towards the door before stopping and looking extremely confused.  "Um…  Backup, not a word!  Not one word, okay?"

"Huh?"  It is now her turn to look confused.  Especially when Sam pushes the bag into her hands and all but jogs over to where I’m sitting.  Reaching me, he picks me up and cuddles me again.  "Come on, Mishy, let’s go see Chris."

"Oh my God!  You’ve got to be joking Sam!  You’re not taking her into the hospital!  You can’t…" Backup’s voice trails off as she notices the look of determination on Sam’s face.

"Watch me.  Chris will be delighted to see her, besides which, if I don’t take her then I *know* that somewhere down the track she will get me back for this perceived wrongdoing."

I purr at the truthfulness in Sam’s words and at the look of bemusement on poor Backup’s face.

"The three of you are mad, do you know that?  You deserve each other…"

"Mmm…  No comment on the grounds it might incriminate me…"

"Well, are you going to get the cat basket, or just take her like this?"

"Like this.  She won’t run, and anyway, I wouldn’t even know where to start to look for the basket.  Knowing Chris, it’s probably under his bed or somewhere *obvious* like that."

"You’re probably right," Backup agrees as we walk out the front door.  Sam shuts the door behind him and we make our way to the car.  I cling contentedly to his shoulder.  The front curtains in the Bovines house twitches as we walk down the path and I would just love to know what is running through Mrs Fat Cow’s pitiful excuse for a brain in relation to what she’s seeing.  I wave a paw at her.

Reaching the car, Sam waits until Backup is settled in the passenger seat before placing me on her lap and getting in himself.  Happy that I’m going to see Chris, I start to knead Backup’s knees through her thin trousers and choose to ignore how she flinches in response to this.

We’ve barely made it to the end of the street before she’s had enough. Wrenching me off her lap, she throws me unceremoniously onto the back seat and, landing roughly, I hiss at her.

// There are times when I *really* don’t like you! //

She sighs.  "That cat hardly ever shuts up, does she?"

"She’s talking."

"You really have been spending too much time with her!"

"Yeah, yeah…  I’ve finally learnt that it’s not worth playing mind games. Not only do I always lose, but I also always managed to incur the wrath of both her and Chris as well.  It’s just not worth it."

// Damn right!  It’s taken a while, but you’ve finally cottoned on Sam!  I’m impressed. //

Standing with my paws on the window, I watch the rain-drops run over the glass and indulge in a quick chorus of ‘Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head’.

I feel quite okay with the world.  Pity the same can’t be said for Backup.

"Um… Sam…  Would you mind dropping me off at home?  My head is beginning to hurt."

"She’s barely warmed up yet."

"That’s what I’m afraid of."

// And you call yourself a CI5 agent?  Pah! //

Not arguing - perhaps Backup is capable of holding grudges as well - Sam drops her off at her apartment block and then drives like a man possessed to the hospital.  Street-lights blur before my eyes as the car races along the all but empty city streets.

Parking the car, he mutters, "What the hell am I doing?" before getting out and coming around to get me.  Without so much as a warning, he picks me up and shoves me in the bag.