A Wild Young Under-Whimsy

Battle of wits and arses. I am very strict about not allowing Graham outside at night. He, in turn, develops an urgent desire to go outside in the late afternoon. This is also his favourite time to sit in his stupid tree and refuse to come down.



Tonight I was full of triumph that I had tricked him into coming back inside. I had got a tin of Whiskas and the ridiculous plastic spoon I use to dig out the cat food, and stood at the back door tapping the side of the tin with the spoon and saying, "Graaaaham?" in a tempting voice.

Gratifyingly, he scrambled out of the tree immediately and sped back inside, where he stood, forlorn, beside his food bowl which was still half full of the cat food I had served him not half an hour earlier. I put the can back in the fridge and was poncing about the kitchen crowing, "I tricked a puff, and I liked it!" to the tune of Katy Perry's 'I Kissed A Girl'.

Then Graham went to the back door and miaowed most piteously. When he saw I wasn't going to let him out, he promptly shat on the floor.

This clearly was a vengeance poo! He did not need to poo when he was in his stupid tree! Even as I cleaned it up I had to admit it was well played.