Ollie is full of the delights of Xmas. It is a time for prancing and dancing, for lurking and smirking. The mailbox is still a danger area for all the foolish people who dare to approach the Ollie zone. The Monarch butterflies are all out and about and pining to be caught by an enterprising cat and Ted must be assisted in the bathroom as he is laying the last of the tiles. Mr. Tapps has the lid off the toilet cistern and Ollie is trying to get inside as this is a completely unexplored part of his territory.
But best of all for a busy cat are the foolish humans who insist on visiting at this time of the year. Take Selina. You only ever see her when she pays you a magnanimous Xmas visit to tell you how well she is doing. It was pelting rain when she turned up the other day and ran a cool and critical eye over my dishevelled appearance. Selina always makes me feel as if I had climbed backwards out of the inside of the dust bin. She kissed me gingerly and gushed "So lovely to see you, Bev. dear, merry, merry Xmas." Selina and I go back a long way. We had once flatted together in our single days and I had looked on jealously as boys fluttered around her like ants around a honey pot. I was tall and skinny and she was delightfully curved and short enough to be called - dare I use those words - cute and cuddly.
We sat in the lounge and I noticed she sat on the edge of the sofa, no doubt to avoid the collection of Ollie hair. Why, oh why didn't I do the vacuuming and dusting yesterday. She looked lovely, so trim and neat in her lilac suit - a true picture of the successful business woman.
"You never change, Bev," she crooned. Yes I do, I wanted to shriek, I get older and more tattered. But you never change or if you do, you seem to get younger.
"A glass of wine," I croaked, staring furtively up the hall. If I was fast I could nip into the bedroom and comb my hair.
"Lovely," said Selina. "But I can't stay, I'm off to a business party this afternoon, all the big wigs will be there."
I was so pre-occupied with my miseries that I didn't hear that ominous little click of the cat door. The Council have been digging up the storm water pipes and Ollie has been the foreman on the job. He was saturated and literally black with mud.
I suppose I could have tried harder to stop him - it is the time of good cheer after all. Was it my fault that I wasn't quite fast enough (he he)? But Ollie recognised a kindred spirit when he saw one. He flung himself on Selina and managed to foot-print her from end to end.
It's amazing how someone can turn venomous so quickly. The woman was hissing like a cornered snake. She tossed poor darling Ollie off on his ear and turned on me. I shouldn't have smiled but I couldn't help it - she looked so funny. Have you ever seen pictures of those old-fashioned prisoners in their arrow-splattered garb? "It's not funny," hissed Selina, "I'm going to have to go home and change." Selena grabbed up her handbag and sped towards the door. But the cat had an ace up his fur,, so to speak; he had arranged himself across the doorway and Selina tripped over him nicely. "I've bruised my leg and laddered my one good pair stockings," wailed Selina, as I helped her up and began muttering my familiar litany of apologies.
It was such an un-Christmas-like farewell. I wondered why she didn't wave as she sped off down the street. Perhaps it was because Ollie had left his arrow-marks all over her shiny red two-seater. Do you think Selina will come and see us next Xmas?