A Kitten Called Cat

Chapter Eight - A Feast of Consequences

I wasn't excessively optimistic about what he'd left for me so I wasn't excessively disappointed when I turned round to look. There were two bowls and a small clock. One of the bowls contained water, the other, some grey sludge that looked and smelt a bit like wallpaper paste.

I spent the next hour in the undignified process of trying to eat the stuff without my hands. It was pretty awful but I was hungry.

As I ate, I was silently grumbling to myself about this treatment. Unfortunately Mr Grumpy was still lodged in my head. 'Use of your hands is a privilege that you relinquished by reason of your betrayal,' he was explaining.

And I suppose he was right, really.

The day passed slowly but I eventually discovered that, by squeezing myself into a corner, I could just about see out through to the windows in my old room and watch what was going on in the world outside. It wasn't great entertainment but it was a bit better than trying to count the number of tiles on the walls: somewhere between 517 and 524. I tried about a dozen times but could never get the same number twice!

By the way, have I told you I was bored out of my skull?

My head was fuzzy through lack of sleep and I did think about trying to set the alarm on the clock so I could have a nap. But, with my hands tied behind my back, I was too worried that I'd muck it up. I didn't think he'd start lopping bits off for sleeping on duty but there would be more of those horrible whacks, for sure. So I had no choice but to stare round the corner and watch the world go by... whilst willing the hands of the clock to creep on.

Somehow they made it round to six o'clock and I was feeling both excited and nervous as I scurried across to the lift. I didn't know what to expect from Mr Bossy but at least it would mean an end to this crushing, soul-destroying boredom.

But then, of course, there was more waiting. At least I was out of that room... and there were a couple of paintings for me to look at. I wasn't sure whether I liked them - they were a bit modern and odd for my taste with funny blobs of orange and black - but, after staring at white tiled walls all day, anything would be an improvement.

At last the whirr of the lift told me that Mr Bossy was on his way up. I arranged myself in my neatest kneeling position - back straight and head down - and pretty much held my breath as I waited for him to arrive.

He was on his phone when he appeared and walked pretty much straight past me. But he did ruffle my hair a bit and I let out a sigh... maybe he didn't completely hate me. As he climbed the stairs he clicked his fingers to tell me to follow him.

So... he was going to treat me like a dog.

That's probably a step down from a kitten.

As he walked into his study, he took off his suit jacket and his tie and threw them onto the two seater sofa, without interrupting his call. Then he sat at his enormous desk and leaned back in his chair. He noticed me hovering by the door and with an absent minded click of his fingers, he told me to come and kneel next to him.

As I knelt there, I tried to make sense of his phone call. It was about the delivery of some sort of 'product' but that was about all I could work out. After a couple of minutes, his hand reached casually down and started stroking my hair. And, after that dreadful night and the brain numbingly boring day, it wasn't as horrible a feeling as I thought it ought to be. I even found myself rubbing my head into his hand.

At last he finished his call. He told me to turn round and then he unfastened the handcuffs for me. I stretched my shoulders for a moment then went over to the comfy chair and nervously picked up his jacket and tie, checking over my shoulder for his approval.