I love Spring. I entered Softboy’s life in the Spring. He was in his kitchen when he heard a knock on the door. When he opened it, I bestowed upon him the benefit of my presence. Him and the lady Fitcat who he was with then had four other cats already. It was chow-time, that’s why I picked my time when I did. They got Felix, not supermarket manky-skank. I went into the kitchen and joined the chowdown. Softboy was well impressed as I was only a few weeks old, and all the other cats were giants. He said “He’s like Daniel in the lion’s den. He doesn’t give a toss does he? His-name-what-he-shall-be-called is Daniel.”
Whatever. He could call me whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t call me late for chowdown. After chow, I got on his lap and snoozed. My life began that Spring. If you are going to be reborn, do it when nature is working with you. You people seem to want to always change the world, or alter nature. You never have, and you never will. Only your own natures maybe?
A couple of weeks later I got my brother who’s name-what-he-was-called was Wurly to come and move in with me. He was in a bad state. Softboy picked 36 live fleas off him, and after Frontlining him pulled another 24 out of his long fluffy ginger coat. He got his name because Softboy’s lady thought he looked like Orlando the Marmalade cat, and it got shortened to Orly. That got changed to Wurly when he developed his habit of whirling his tail around when they called his name and he was asleep –which Softboy did.... a lot. It doesn’t take much to amuse his amoebic brain. Wurly told me he was going to take skin if he didn’t pack it in, but I reminded him of the place we’d left with all the other cats, the dogs and the ferrets, and asked whether a bit of pisstaking wasn’t a small price to pay. They never really got on as Wurly was a bit jumpy. When softboy and the Fitcat parted, Wurly went with her. I miss him, but he’s better off.
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