Et tu, Brute?

„No, no, no, no, no“, say I and look at Queen Cat. I try to look as firm as I can. Queen Cat does not seems to be much impressed. „No way, I am taking you with me“ I repeat. „Maybe if your were a cow, things would look different. But you are a feline, not to say a bundle of fur that lives on salmon and tuna alone and is distinguished by a great disgust for dirty paws.  „No, no, no. I am not the one to be bargained with that“, say I and Queen Cat looks at me as if I were the greatest disappointment in her entire life. I probably am. „Listen, Queen, I try to make things at least not worse. You will have a fabulous summer in London with my sister. She is lovely. Everyone knows this. It is impossible not to like J. She is a princess like you,“ I try to sound convincing. You, especially loved her at first sight, Queen Cat. You did not even look at me while she was here. But Queen Cat pretends to look totally indifferent. The kids are lovely I say. They will keep you entertained all day long, isn’t this wonderful? And I hope Queen Cat has forgotten by now that niece No. 3 tried to braid her hair and in doing so held a pair of scissors in her hands. But it wasn’t a clever move anyway. The word  „children“ seems to evoke a horrid sound in cat’s eyes and so Queen Cat jumps from my lap onto the windowsill, not without leaving a deep scratch on my arm. A Queen has to do what a queen has to do. Come on, try I again. „London. That’s still a rather fun place.“ But even in my ears I sound lame. Three months, sweetheart, just three months, that is not too bad at all. But of course whatever I say is wrong. If I could understand more than an angry and disappointed meow, I am sure I would hear her saying: „Don’t you dare to call me sweetheart.“ I feel horrid and then I mention the grocer’s wife dog and have lost it all. Queen Cat turns her back towards me and will not even listen anymore. Before she turns away, she looks at me in the very same way as she did when we met at at first sight. „I knew, her staring glance says, I knew, you meant trouble.“ I feel like the most gruel and horrid person ever born. A true Brute, who easily sells his best friend’s soul, a traitor, short someone, who is able to anything. But I just can’t take her with me, I think stubborn and unrelenting as I am. I just can’t.

3 Gedanken zu “Et tu, Brute?

  1. Oh the terrors and pleasures of having a cat; having a mind of its own is built into the genes of the animal. You have captured the personality of any cat I’ve ever known.

Kommentar verfassen

Trage deine Daten unten ein oder klicke ein Icon um dich einzuloggen:

WordPress.com-Logo

Du kommentierst mit Deinem WordPress.com-Konto. Abmelden / Ändern )

Twitter-Bild

Du kommentierst mit Deinem Twitter-Konto. Abmelden / Ändern )

Facebook-Foto

Du kommentierst mit Deinem Facebook-Konto. Abmelden / Ändern )

Google+ Foto

Du kommentierst mit Deinem Google+-Konto. Abmelden / Ändern )

Verbinde mit %s