"Did you hear that, Mishy?"

// What do you think?  I was -- note *past* tense -- asleep. //

Rolling over onto my back and stretching, I open my eyes and peer balefully at Backup.

She looks positively delighted.  The happiest she’s looked all week in fact.

I roll back over, stand up, casually stretch and stick my claws lightly into her duvet cover.

// Now, you were saying? //

"That was Chris.  He and Sam are just leaving the airport and will be here shortly."  Backup beams at me.  "Which means, you, my feline friend, will soon be out of my hair."

// No need to get so excited, dear.  Please don’t think for a minute that I’ve enjoyed my time here either. //

Personally, I would much rather have stayed at home.  Can I help it if the House of Fat Cow refuse to feed me any more?  Chris tried to get them to change their mind; he even offered them money, but apparently you can’t put a price on what I made Mr Fat Cow lose…

The way this was shrieked at him upset Chris a bit and he replied something along the lines of it being a miracle that the poor bastard had managed one at all.  This, in turn, caused Mrs Fat Cow to up her volume and, if it hadn’t been for Sam arriving and inquiring as to whether they were attempting to wake the dead, I shudder to think what might have happened.

So, anyway, instead of staying at home, as used to be the case when Chris went away, I got packed up and carted over to Backup’s.  She lives in a high-rise apartment block and I’ve been miserable the entire time I’ve been here.

Nonetheless, I’m a little miffed that Backup is so ecstatic to be getting rid of me, and, *accidentally* get my claw stuck in her duvet.

Her smile slips and she glares at me.  "You did that on purpose!"

// Very good.  Perhaps you’re more perceptive than I’ve given you credit for. //

Wailing loudly, I make a show of trying to get my claw unstuck.

"Fine!  Enough already!  Here…"  Backup finally helps pull the duvet away from my claw.  "Happy now?"

// Ecstatic.  Thanks for asking. //

I hop off the bed, stick my tail in the air and saunter out of the room. Backup brushes non-existent cat hair off her bed (how dare she even think I’d moult…) before following me.

"I don’t know how Chris puts up with you."

// Because he’s a nicer person than you.  Because he likes me.  Because at home I have a cat-door and more things to do.  Because he’s never fucking there. //

Realising that Backup is no longer walking behind me, I stop, turn around and sit down.  She’s standing in the doorway, shaking her head and muttering to herself.  "I can not *believe* that I’m talking to a cat."

// Would it make you feel any better to know that I’m listening? //

Backup looks at me strangely.  Feeling a bit put off by her lingering gaze, I start to clean  my tail.  She rolls her eyes and sighs.  "Thank God Chris is back.  I don’t think I could survive much more of this."  With this, Backup turns back into the bedroom and slams the door.

Strange girl.

I stare at the shut bedroom door for a few moments before turning my mind to happier thoughts.  Chris is coming home!  Hip hip hooray!   I clean myself thoroughly in anticipation and settle down to have a nap.

~*~

I’m happily dreaming about chasing tiny, mice-size versions of Mr and Mrs Fat Cow around their kitchen, when I’m awoken by the sound of the doorbell and Backup flying past me.

"Happy days are here again!," she mutters on her way to the door.

//  Yeah, yeah.  Thank Goddess almighty, we are free at last. //

Getting up slowly, I make my way to a spot, where, whilst I can see the front door, am not close enough to give the impression I care.  From my position, I watch in amusement as Backup smooths down her hair and clothing down before opening the door.  Poor thing.  I would have thought that someone with her apparent intelligence would have known better.

"Chris!  Sam!"

And indeed it is.  Strangely, for once, neither of them seem any worse for wear.  I quickly decide that, if I find out they were simply on holiday as opposed to being on a mission, then either one or both of them are going to be exceptionally sorry.

"How’s things?"  Chris beams at Backup as he walks through the door, his eyes scanning the room.  His grin widens when he sees me and, momentarily, I feel a rush of affection for him that I have to quickly quash.  It wouldn’t do to run over there and prove that I missed him.

"You never told me that your cat was such a bitch."

"She’s not.  She’s… er… highly unique, that’s all."

"*Right*.  Anyway, she’s missed you."

"Absolutely!  I can see that, Chris, can’t you?  The expression of delight on her furry little face is positively a treat to experience."

"Shut up, Sam…"

// Yeah, you tell him, Chris. //

"… By the way, don’t think for a minute that I wouldn’t buy you a kitten for your birthday, because I would.  Then you too can experience the never-ending joy cat ownership entails."

// Excuse me?  *Ownership*?  Chris, dear, you’re kidding yourself again. //

"You wouldn’t dare."

"Do you want to find out the hard way?"

"Ahem."  Backup clears her throat in an attempt to get their attention.  "Do you really have to discuss this here?"

"Sam thinks I’m joking."

"You *are* joking."

"And *I* don’t care."

Chris looks at Backup strangely before shrugging.  "Fine.  Sorry."  He then inhales deeply and wrinkles his nose.  "What the hell is that smell?"

// Don’t ask. //

"I’m *glad* you asked.  Come in, take a seat, and I’ll tell you."  She gestures the pair of them towards the sofa as she takes a seat in the nearby armchair.

Once Chris and Sam are seated, Backup starts to list my week’s activities. The way in which she presents them makes me believe that she thinks I did everything on purpose.  I take exception to this.  *Some* things were entirely accidental.

"The smell in here is what happens when an all-but-full bottle of Chanel No.5 is knocked, in your absence, over your dressing table and spends the day seeping into the wood."

"How’d that happen?"

// Oh, wake up, Sam.  You’re supposed to be good at thinking. //

"How do you *think* it happened?  For reasons best known to herself, Mishy decided to mount an attack on my dressing table and knocked it over."

//  Mount an attack?  Truly, there’s no need to be so melodramatic. //

I’d  merely wanted to play with the feather-boa that was hanging over the mirror.  The perfume was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Anyway, quite frankly,  I think I did Backup a favour.  The perfume smelt atrocious on her.

Chris sighs.  "I’ll buy you another bottle."

"Damn right you’ll by me another bottle.  Actually, I hope you’re in a cheque-writing mood because you haven’t yet heard half of it."

He sighs again.  "Do I want to know?"

// No. //

"No.  But I’m going to tell you anyway."

Surreptitiously, I inch forward a little in order to hear Backup.  I’m sure she’ll overplay everything.

"Where to start?"  It’s now Backup’s turn to sigh.

// At the beginning is always a good place. //

"I’ll start at the beginning.  The first day, Mishy apparently made such a racket that by the time I got home my door was nearly covered in complaint notes."

// I was bored.  So I sang.  There was nothing else to do. //

"Um…  She’s used to going outside.  She probably didn’t like being cooped up inside all day."

"So I gathered."  Backup glares at Chris before continuing.  "The next day, I made an incredibly ill-advised attempt to rectify this by leaving the door to the balcony open."

"What was wrong with that?"

// Sam, do you *have* to ask these questions? //

"Oh, *nothing*."  Backup’s level of sarcasm is steadily increasing.  "It was a *wonderful* idea.  First she hopped from my balcony to my neighbour’s on the right.  Now, Miss Smethurst has a horrible little Pekinese by the name of Rhett, that, unlike Mishy, is content to stay inside.  Well, let’s say he *was* content to stay inside, that is until faced with the sight of a cat staring at him on *his* balcony.  Needless to say, this upset him a bit and he threw himself at the glass door…  Rest assured that when I get the vet’s bill *and* the bill for the glass that I will be forwarding them to you, Chris."

// Stupid, ugly creature.  I’m sorry Chris.  It’s not my fault that he didn’t have enough intelligence to know that there was glass between me and him.//

Actually, it was rather fun.  The way Rhett staggered around after hitting the door was exceptionally funny to watch.

"But wait, there’s more."

"I don’t think I want to know."

"I’m sure you don’t, but tough.  Not content with giving a Pekinese concussion,  Mishy then decided to visit my neighbour’s to the left.  There, she got to play with their son and his Pokemon toys."

"That doesn’t sound too bad.  Don’t tell me she scratched the kid?"

//  As if.  Not that he didn’t deserve it though. //

"No.  She took her frustrations out on some stuffed Pokemon toy of his. Now, I can’t remember exactly what was so special about this particular toy -- although I was told in *great* detail by his mother -- but I think it had something to do with the fact that you could only get this one if you had all the others.  I’ve already promised them that, if it’s the last thing you do, Chris, that you will get them another one."

// The little brat pulled my tail and then threw the thing at me.  What did you want me to do?  Besides, it was ugly and deserved to die. //

Chris is beginning to sink further into the sofa.  "Please tell me that’s all that she’s done…"

"Well, that’s all that is going to cost you."

"That’s a relief.  How’d you stop her from misbehaving though?"

"I took her to work with me."

"You what?"

Both Chris and Sam blurt this out in unison.  Content that the worst of Backup’s tale of woe is over, I wander over to sit behind the sofa and prepare to execute the next step of my plan.

"What else could I do?  Let her continue to wreck havoc on my apartment block?  I don’t think so.  Besides, Malone wasn’t there, he was at that conference in Paris."

"And she behaved herself?"  Poor Chris.  He sounds so apprehensive.

Jumping lightly onto the back of the sofa, I stick my nose into Sam’s ear and tickle him with my whiskers for a second before walking down his chest and sitting on his lap.  As I’d hoped, I’ve barely settled before Sam picks me up and plonks me on Chris’ lap.  "Yours, I presume."

Pleased that I’m where I wanted to be without looking as though I made any attempt to get there, I begin to purr happily.  "You’ve got a nerve, you really do.  What are you trying to do, send me broke?"  I purr a little louder in the hope that Chris will forget his tetchiness.  Thankfully, my ploy seems to work and he starts to stroke me lightly as Backup continues my misadventures.

"You might want to define ‘behaved’ for me, but, well, she wasn’t too bad. If you can forget the fact that she bit Richards on the wrist , lost a satellite link that Spencer had been waiting all day for, stuck her tail in somebody’s coffee and, oh, was sitting on Malone’s chair when he came back, unexpectedly, from the conference."

Chris’ hand stills on my back and he appears to be frozen.  "Please, don’t tell me what happened.  I don’t want to know."

"Oh, but I do!"  Sam seems to be having a hard time keeping a straight face.

"Wimp!"  Backup smiles for the first time.  "It was really rather incredible.  Malone didn’t see her until he was nearly seated and then, fortunately, she jumped upwards, landed on his desk and hissed at him.  It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him speechless.  Mishy just sat there and out-stared him."

Sam starts to laugh.  "I wish I’d seen it."

"What did Malone do?"  Chris sounds mortified.

"The usual.  Bellowed until he found out why a Siamese cat was sitting in his chair.  I was waiting for one of his scathing put-downs when Mishy jumped off the desk, settled on his lap and started to clean herself.  For the second time in as many minutes, Malone was speechless and I started to run through my career options."

"Backup, I’m so sorry…  I’ll explain everything to Malone and he can blame me."

"Don’t stress, Chris.  It’s fine.  God alone knows why, but Malone suddenly calmed down, dismissed me from his office and Mishy spent the rest of her time there with him.  Ours is not to reason why…"

// Never underestimate the calming qualities of a cat.  Now, Chris, let go of the scruff of my neck or I am going to shred your knee…  Thank you.  That ’s a lot better. //

"Oh, that’s precious, that is!"  Sam is still laughing and finally Chris joins him.  "I suppose you’re right.  It would have been interesting to see."

Backup also laughs.  "Interesting is one way to put it."

Chris picks me up and holds me in front of his face.  "Been busy, haven’t we?"

// A cat’s gotta do what a cat’s gotta do. //

"I wish I could stay angry with you."

// Impossible. //

"But I can’t."

// Bulls-eye. //

Chris sighs, and, still holding me, gets off the couch.  "Well, Backup, thanks for looking after Mishy and, of course, I would be more than delighted to pay the bills for her escapades.  Come on, Sam, let’s go before we discover she’s chewed her way through a power meter somewhere."

//  Silly boy.  He should know I learnt that particular lesson as a kitten.//

Ten or so minutes later, I’m sitting in my travel case, saying goodbye to Backup, as Sam struggles under the weight of the rest of my luggage.  I still don’t know what possessed Chris to send over a cat bed with me, he should I know I never sleep in those things - they’re too common and I’d rather even sleep on the floor than in one.  Actually, I’ve missed the stereo.  Backup’s simply wasn’t, as hard as I tried, conducive to sleeping.

Twenty or so minutes after that, farewells have *finally* been completed, the lift has *finally* deposited us outside the apartment block and I’m *finally* sitting in the back of the car on my way home.  I wail happily to myself in anticipation of catching up with my friend Charlie the Cemetery Cat, and having the freedom of being able to do whatever the hell I want.

"Don’t look at me like that, Chris.  I don’t care how much noise she makes, she’s not getting out in the car again."

// It’s okay, Sam, I don’t want to get out.  I can still remember how close the tail-lights of that lorry looked when I stood on the dash in front of you last time.  It was most disconcerting.  As was the noise you made. You nearly drowned out the screech of the brakes. //

"I wasn’t thinking about Mishy.  I was actually thinking…"  Chris leans over and whispers something in Sam’s ear.

// Is it just me, or did it suddenly get hot in here? //

No, not just me.  From my position between the front seats, I can see Sam suddenly running his finger along the collar of his shirt, and for some peculiar reason, Chris has started to wriggle.  He’s also started to do something with his hands that seems more interesting than the road because Sam can hardly keep his eyes off him.

"You know, your place is closer than mine…"

// Chris, why do you sound like you’re panting?  It’s not that hot in here. //

"So it is…"

// Sam, ditto… //

"Well, what are you waiting for?  Put your foot down!"

"What about Mishy?"

"What about her?"

//  Yeah, what about me? //

"Well, we’d have to take her inside and she might…"

"She might *what* exactly?  Fine.  Never mind.  If you’d rather protect your apartment from a cat than have me…"  Chris drops his voice to a whisper again and appears to punctuate whatever he says by casually licking Sam’s neck.

The car picks up speed.  "You’re right.  Stuff the apartment."

"That’s what I thought you’d say."

For a moment I’m confused as to what is happening.  Why are we going to Sam’s and not home?  Then I gradually realise that my two friends are in the grips of their favourite ‘I-can’t-keep-my-hands-off-you-much-longer-so-help-me’ dilemma.

Silly me.  I really should have known.  I also think that they are insatiable and wonder if there is a cure for what they suffer.

Oh well, curiosity at getting to see what Sam’s place looks like overrides my anxiousness to get home, and I start to purr again.

Before long, the car comes to a stop and, quickly getting out, they shut the doors behind them.  I tell myself to count to ten before I throw a hissy fit, and am up to eight before Chris comes panting back.  "Sorry!"

// So you should be. //

To my disgust, he then jogs up to the door that Sam is holding open and the shaking this action causes reverberates through my bones.

// Get a grip, Chris.  I’m sure he isn’t going anywhere. //

The door is barely shut behind them and I’m barely out of the case before they are on each other.  I stare in abject fascination at them, torn between finally witnessing whatever the hell it is they get up to, and touring through Sam’s apartment.

Oh, the dilemma!

A shoe, followed by a jacket, both narrowly missing my head, makes my mind up for me.  Momentarily at least.  Bounding down the hallway, I decide to peruse my surroundings for a while and then, maybe, I’ll go back later and check out what they are doing.

As I wander around, I can hardly believe what I’m seeing.  Someone actually lives here?  Sheesh, I knew Sam was neat but I didn’t know he was this anal about it.  No wonder he always rolls his eyes at the state of our home. There is not a thing out of place.  In fact, there is hardly a thing anywhere and I come to the conclusion that he must be big -- real big -- on clean space.

My tour doesn’t take long as there isn’t much to see and there certainly isn’t much to do.  I don’t think I’d like to live with Sam.  I’d probably go crazy with boredom.

The noises emanating from the living room make me a little apprehensive about returning there.  Maybe I really am better off living in ignorance; I’ve heard it can be quite blissful…

Still, after a while curiosity (I laugh in the face of that silly ‘killing the cat’ saying!) dictates that I *have* to know what is going on, and I cautiously wander into the room.

Oh my Goddess!

And getting this sweaty is allegedly pleasurable?

Wonders truly will never cease…

Tilting my head to one side, I still can’t work out exactly what it is they are doing.  Recalling the first time I half-saw this peculiar activity, I’m interested to note that the tables appear to have been turned, and this time it is Chris that is doing the ‘attaching’.  How nice.  I’m oddly pleased that they share.

Interesting facial expressions too…

And the less said about the noise the better…

I decide that whilst they make a far more attractive picture than Mr and Mrs Fat Cow at it, I am still, nonetheless, no longer upset that they shut the door on this activity.

I’m about to sneak back out of the room when whatever it is they are doing seems to reach a crescendo.  Sam starts to make noises like an animal in pain and Chris doesn’t exactly sound too healthy himself.

Concerned, I reluctantly sneak back towards them just as it all ends. Suddenly they are unattached and slump down in a heap on the floor.

More bemused than concerned, I wander a little closer and miaow.

// You two worry me. //

Chris opens his eyes and begins to laugh.  "Oh my, Sam, we had an audience!"

"So, it’s true what they say then…"

"What is?"

"That pets take after their owners."

"What exactly are you trying to say here?"

They’re both laughing now and, deciding that they’ve lost it, I hop up onto the sofa and start to have a wash.  At least one of us in the room is going to be clean…

"Well, it appears that your cat, like you, is a pervert!"

Chris is laughing so hard that he’s incapable of responding and it takes him a moment to gasp out a comeback.  "Oh, *wonderful*!"

"It is, isn’t it…"

For reasons that I will never truly be able to comprehend,  Sam reiterates this breathy statement by leaning over Chris and sticking his tongue in his mouth.

Once I’ve ascertained that this doesn’t bother Chris in the slightest -- in fact, I could be wrong, but it seems to thrill him -- I settle down to have a nap.  As consciousness begins to fade (in time with the mysterious noises revving up again) I can’t help but agree with my two favourite humans that it (whatever *it* is) is wonderful…  If they’re happy, then I’m happy.