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Feed the cat
01/12/2005 . Source: Geoff Willmetts 
Short fiction from the magical yet murderous pen of Geoff Willmetts. Do you love cats? Best you don't read this story, then, dear reader. 'Puss, Puss, Puss. C'mon on, cat. You like the night. I've got your dinner waiting outside the door.'
You know how it is. All day, your cat lulls by the fire on your favourite chair and the minute you want it out, nowhere to be found. Who knows what it could be doing? Bringing up a furball to shitting on the carpet, right in front of the dirt box just to show you it doesn't use such things. Cats have contempt for convention.
And does the wife help? No! She doesn't mind going to the pet shop and choosing a cat but she leaves its catering to me. Including the crap job.
'C'mon, Puss. It's a nice din-dins. Even got the dry ones you like so much.'
This really was going to take all night.
'Honey, have you seen the cat?'
'If she's laid out on our bed, I expect any cat fur to be removed...and fumigated.'
Bloody cat! Still, the bedroom was one place I hadn't been to. Where do you tell cats not to go? The bedroom. Why? Cos they think its their personal boudoir. Where do they turn up? There she is. On the bed.
'C'mon, Puss,' I stroked her head and she screws her eyes up enjoying the attention, 'time to eat. The night is yours.'
Must be calm. Don't want her to shed any more fur than she has to. Puss gets a gleam in her eye. The magic word of 'eat' is akin to 'food'. I go to the door. She follows and then it's a race to the back door. Don't even have time to look back and check the bed. Everything's on the clock now. She wants out.
The cat got to the back door first. Now impatient to get out there and eat.
'Comin', Puss.' I open the door and the cat rushes to her dinner plate. Gets them every time. I shut the door and flick off the light.
'GROWLL...UMPPPPPGGHHHHH!!!'
Aw shit! There's a freakin' monster out there. Puss won't have a chance. I stop and wait. Very quiet out there. Poor pussy.
'What was the noise, Joe?'
'Monster got Puss, honey. Another trip to the pet shop in the morning.'
'You sure?'
'You want me to check?'
'Better. It's getting harder to get a cat these days.'
I sighed and opened the kitchen drawer and pulled a gun out. Checked the ammunition and pulled the safety. Didn't want to go the same way as the cat. Almost forgot. I flicked the switch for the outside light and looked out the window. Very quiet again. Nothing moving. Quick look around. Grab what's left of the body, bag and bury in the morning. If I was that lucky. The gun wouldn't stop one of those freakin' monsters for long and I'd need a clear run back to the door.
I opened the door very cautiously. Something pushed it open even more. The cat walked in bold as brass. By the lawn was the freakin' monster. Very dead. Puss licked her lips. She'd had more than her feed tonight. Couldn't deny her inside tonight.
'You okay, Joe. There's a waiting list for new husbands...'
'Honey, forget the pet shop. Pussy's all right.'
I stroked the back of the cat's neck.
The cat looked up at me and gave a cursory wink.
'Don't think you'll be so lucky every time, puss.'
End (c) GF Willmetts 2005 all rights reserved.
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