A Kitten Called Cat

Chapter Thirty Eight - Drug War

He looked at me for a moment and pursed his lips. "It's tricky to say," he answered at last. "I really don't know... and, if you should ever happen to find out, I'd be grateful if you told me!"

We laughed together at that then he added, "You might have noticed that Caroline isn't any sort of ordinary woman!"

It was hard to argue with that.

After eating, I curled up in front of the telly but I just couldn't be bothered with anything. I tried watching my soap opera for a while but the whole thing just felt so trivial and pathetic and I just knew that I'd never get back into watching it again.

So I flipped channels until I landed on the news and watched that for a bit. I suppose I was vaguely wondering whether there'd be anything about money supply or inflation. But they seemed much more excited by a major drug-gang war that was happening in a couple of cities around Europe.

The weather forecast followed the news. There were a couple more storms coming through and it was going to be wet, windy and generally horrible for the rest of the week.

Just as well I wasn't allowed out, I suppose.

There was still no sign of Mr Bossy and, by that time, I was pretty much fed up so I went up and got ready for bed.

And it was as I was brushing my teeth that I managed to put two and two together... a major drug gang war had broken out... and Mr Bossy had a crisis at work.

I tried to settle down in my own bed but it felt cold and lonely and really rather frightening for a little kitten so I scurried along the corridor to Master's room.

And I left the light on in the corridor.

It was late when Master returned. He stepped into the bedroom and, when he turned the light on, he was a bit surprised to find me in his bed. "Oh, hello, Kitten!" he said. He looked completely done in but he managed a weak sort of smile for me.

"Hello, Master. You look terrible," I said as I hopped out of bed and hurried over to give him a hug.

He must have been really tired because he couldn't even manage a sarky answer.

"Have you eaten?" I asked him.

"I think I had a sandwich at lunch time," he replied.

"Get changed. I'll bring you something up."

He was about to say something about me bossing him about but he couldn't be bothered so he just collapsed onto the bed instead. I scurried off down to the kitchen.

There were a couple of posh tins of soup in one of the cupboards so I opened one of those, zapped it in the microwave and put it on a tray with some fruit and a bottle of fizzy water. I also added the bottle of the Tobermory Whisky that I knew he liked. Then I scurried... a bit more carefully... back up.

He was still flat out on the bed when I reappeared and hadn't even managed to take his shoes off. He smiled weakly when he saw the contents of the tray - particularly the whisky. "You are an angel beyond compare!" he told me.

I giggled then helped him to undress. At least, after our special snuggle that morning, I never needed to be embarrassed by his body again.

"You smell," I told him when I got to the armpit area. "Eat your soup and have a whisky then go and have a shower. And, if you tell me where you keep your massage oil, I'll see what I can manage.

"Yes, Little Miss Bossy," he said with a weak smile.

I'd never given anyone a massage before but I made him lie flat out on the bed as I perched on his bottom and rubbed his back and shoulders with the oil. He made some contented, sighy, grunty noises for a bit and then fell asleep... I guess that meant he was satisfied.