// Somewhere, violins play and their achingly delicate strains soothe the invisible, yet at the same time curiously tangible, electricity in the air. Anticipation courses through my veins. My fur tingles and my claws flex reflexively into the purple satin cushion I´m sitting on. My tail is curled, ever-so-lady-like, around my body and I´m so carefully groomed that my fur positively shines. A sapphire blue velvet collar around my neck matches my eyes purrfectly. My heart is emulating a butterfly enclosure and it flutters with excitement as I impatiently wait.

My Goddess. He´s here; my prince.

I feel myself swooning as he undulates over to me. Muscles rippling under his sleek fur, tail proudly erect, his glowing eyes fixed on me and me alone. The hunter home to claim his reward.

Giving him a come-hither look, I purr appreciatively under my breath and stretch languidly.

‘Mine,´ he growls commandingly, causing all my joints to tremble.

‘Your´s,´ I agree demurely, inhaling his wonderful tom-cat scent and feeling any remaining inhibitions desert me.

With whiskers vibrating, I welcome his lips on mine. We kiss, losing ourselves in the out-of-control desire we feel for each other. //

Oh!

Unclean! Unclean!

Kissing Jojo! In the name of the Goddess, what have I done to deserve such a nightmare!

Unclean! Unclean!

I wake up in such haste that I completely misjudge my surroundings and fall straight off the edge of the bedside table.

Is my shame now complete? First having erotic dreams about that feral waste of fur that has ingratiated himself into my life and now falling out of bed… I shudder to think what might befall me next. Dragging my head out of Chris´ boot, and detangling myself from a discarded pair of boxers, I peer surreptitiously around me. Phew. I´m alone in the bedroom and don´t have to pretend that I fell off the bedside table on purpose. That´s a relief. I´m so out of sorts that I don´t think I could muster the acting skills that would require at the moment.

Jojo! *Kissing* Jojo! What a positively dire thought. It must have been those two mouthfuls of allegedly ‘new and improved´ cat food that Chris cheerfully spooned into my bowl this morning. They must have poisoned my system and inflicted the nightmare on me. Well, one thing´s for sure, from not having thought much of it earlier, I´m now never going anywhere near it again. Chris can feed it to Sam for all I care, not one iota of the muck is ever going near my mouth again.

Sitting up, I casually groom myself in an attempt to look my usual cool, calm and collected self. I now know how Spike felt after having that dream with Buffy in it. It´s just not right. In fact, it´s positively unnatural. And I don´t care what those deluded, so-called experts might have to say on the subject. I am most definitely not repressing my true feelings.

Actually *want* to kiss Jojo? I think not. That kind of contemptible activity is just below wanting to live with the Fat Cows, and just after sleeping on Sam´s pillow, on my list of things to do when feeling suicidal.

Yuk, yuk, yuk! Unclean!

What next? Nauseating dreams of marital bliss? Jojo bringing home deceased rodents and proudly laying them before me? *Kittens*? Tiny little blue and pink cat-nip mice for my offspring?

Not fucking likely. I mean, motherhood? Not likely. I don´t even like other cats much, so how on earth could I warm to something that I brought to life? I don´t think so. Other than giving me a home (not to mention such entertainment), getting me de-sexed was the kindest thing Chris has ever done for me.

Lightly bounding up onto the bed, I meander back onto the bedside table and have a drink of water from the glass Chris keeps next to the clock radio. What he doesn´t know can´t hurt him. Actually, more to the point, what Sam doesn´t know can´t hurt anyone. This glass of water is actually my preferred drinking spot, but I just don´t think Sam would take it well. I mean, he goes off everytime Chris gives me something on one of his bowls or plates. I´ve taken the time out and informed him that I´m actually incredibly clean and that it would take a brave germ to inhabit my body, but he just doesn´t listen. Then again, it could just be one of those many anally-retentive Sam things that makes Sam the obsessive compulsive that he is. I´ve pretty much given up trying to work him out. Besides, it doesn´t seem to bother Chris and, let´s face it, that´s all that matters.

Oh, that and that *I* get what I want. Mustn´t forget that.

My mouth refreshed, I jump elegantly -- far, far preferably to falling off the damn thing -- off the bedside table and wander out of the room. I think I need something to keep my mind off my treacherous dream and go off in search of company. Although I can´t hear them, I´m think Chris and Sam are around. No. I don´t just think, I know they´re here. Somewhere. I remember, before skulking off to the bedroom, in order to steer clear of the possessed creature that is Sam in the kitchen, the decidedly lack-lustre argument they had over what was going to be had for tea.

"Pizza."

"Oh God, not again. Don´t you ever get sick of it?"

"Nope."

"Well I do."

"Well I´m not cooking."

"And the local fire brigade breathes a huge sigh of relief."

"Smart-ass. Chinese then."

"I´m sick of take-away."

"You know, I´m beginning to think you´re just a bit strange."

"Only beginning?"

"Mmm… I´ve had my suspicions for a while now and, well, if you offer to cook I´ll know for sure…"

"Well, looks like I´m strange then, ‘cos, although God alone knows what I might find in the kitchen, I´m going to cook."

At that point in the conversation, I left ‘em to it. At the time I thought I had better things to do with my time than watch Chef Sam stare glumly into the freezer. Needless to say, in hindsight, it would have been approximately one million times more interesting and better for my health than having a nap and subjecting myself to those hideous images.

Will I ever feel truly clean again?

Entering the living room, I find it dimly lit by the remaining candles left over from Halloween. They´re scattered haphazardly around the room and their flames flicker delicately. I´m impressed by the simplistic beauty of the sight. All the essential artefacts of modern day living, stereo, TV, video and the like are disguised by the shadows and for a second I almost don´t recognise the room. Classical music, no doubt from the invisible stereo, wafts gently through the air

Curious, (what are they up to *now*?) I hop onto the back of the sofa and survey the room. To my distinct surprise, I find my humans standing silently in front of the windows. They´re so tightly entwined that they almost look as one. My surprise rises a notch when I note that they are still fully clothed and are simply embracing and kissing. Their focus is entirely on the other and I think it would take an earthquake (Mrs Fat Cow indulging in a Step-Reebok video for example) to separate them.

They look blissfully happy.

Feeding off this sense of innocent contentment, I purr to myself and settle down. Any minute now things are likely to rev up and they´ll disappear into the bedroom. It´s what usually happens.

But no, not this time.

Lips locked together, arms around each other, they remain in their position in front of the window.

Well I never.

I hope they´re not getting too old for whatever it is they do that seems to bring them so much pleasure. Not only would it be a shame -- for them, I hasten to add, I mean, I really couldn´t care less either way -- but they´d also have to find something else to fill their time in with. And that worries me. Board games, while good for providing non-resisting laps to snooze on, aren´t good for Chris´ next to non-existent patience. Some months ago Sam tried to teach him chess. Poor Chris looked so comatose at the speed, or lack thereof, of the game that I took pity on him and chased a couple of imaginary rodents over the board… Chess pieces flew in all directions, Sam sighed heavily and that was that. No more chess.

Shifting slightly, they come up for air and Chris lightly strokes Sam´s cheek with his hand. They smile warmly at each other, their lips swollen and stained a decidedly rosy pink colour, before wordlessly returning to the kiss. By the looks of things, this is all they are planning for their evening´s entertainment.

Oh well. Works well enough for me. Begrudgingly, for I don´t really like handing out compliments as it goes against my way of thinking, I have to admit that they are really rather beautiful. So close, so in love, so lost in each other. Watching my humans, and telling myself firmly that I am *not* falling prey to a warm fuzzy feeling, my eyes droop shut and I feel myself falling asleep. Surrounded by gentle beauty, I have confidence that my dreams will be of a higher, preferable quality and allow sleep to claim me.

And, to my extreme pleasure, they are… I dream a dream that is far more becoming to a cat of my breeding and stature.

// The wind whistling in my whiskers, I urge my trusty mount, a Rottweiler salivating at the bit, ever forward. He´s so well trained that he obeys my every command and we fly over the rough terrain with sure footed ease. On the hilltop to my right, two human bodies -- that look suspiciously like Mr and Mrs Fat Cow -- hang limply from gallows. A huge black crow sits on top of one of the gallows and I can hear his haunting lament as I urge my mount onwards. Rounding a corner, I sneer triumphantly as I see that my prey is cornered and raise my rifle.

"Please Queen Mishy… I beg you. Take pity on me," he pleads, his eyes wide with fear.

I snort derisively. "And, why, pray tell, would I want to do that?" I query sarcastically. "I have chased you a long time, Jojo, and now you have the nerve to beg for your life?"

"Queen Mishy, please… I am your loyal servant. I will do anything that you ask of me," he snivels.

Looking down at the pathetic creature from my lofty heights, I hear myself saying, "Then kiss me… I´ve waited for you too long." //

What *the*???