My family has been cursed, and the curse’s name is Angus.
A while back our neighbours started having trouble with their new neighbours. Specifically, their neighbour’s cat. Angus was a very affectionate tabby the size of a small tiger with no understanding of the concept of personal boundaries. He would wander into their house in search of people, and get into a fight with the two cats that actually lived in the house. This seemed rather amusing to me at the time. In retrospect, I should have seen it as a warning.
My neighbours went on holidays earlier this week, so as usual we have been looking after their two cats. Yesterday, as I was checking on them, I heard a loud ‘mrow!’, the tink-tink of a cats bell, and looked up to see a cat trotting towards me, delighted to have company. Well, I patted him, went home and told Mum about him, and she came out and patted him too. Mistake. Angus clearly thought ‘I have new best friends!’ because when we went hoime, he followed us there.
Our own cat, less-than-affectionately known as either Fang or Dr Jekyll on account of having a second, homicidal personality, was only half Angus’s size and so terrified of him. We chased him away. Ten minutes later, there’s a loud ‘mrow!’ at the front door. I go to look. Sure enough, it’s Angus. “Go away,” I tell him. “This isn’t your house.” Twenty minutes later he is gone…
…because he walked around to the side of the house and bailed up Fang. Again, we chased him away. Some time later it was time to go shopping and pick Li’l Sis up from school. Mum ets in the car. A few minutes later I walk into the garage: Angus wanders out from underneath the front of the car and regards me with a friendly expression. I chase him away, again.
We shop, collect Li’l Sis, go home. I’m unpacking groceries from the car when there’s a shout from Li’l Sis: “Hey, it’s Angus!” Short, amusing incident that involves yelling Li’l Sis attempting to escape affectionate cat in order to go inside. Even once everyone is inside and all doors are shut, we can still hear the tell-tale tink-tink drifting through the windows.
Six thirty. Dad gets home from work. Comes in smiling. “There’s an Angus cat out there!” he exclaims. All groan. Angus comes round to back door and mrows. Tell him to go away. Angus stays. Dad goes next door to feed neighbour’s cats; tink-tink from bushes, delighted Angus rushes after him in pursuit. “I’m being stalked,” Dad complains. Eleven pm. Am getting ready for bed. Angus jumps up onto windowsill and presses his face against window appealingly in the belief that I am the most likely person to let him in. Heart melts; Angus is clearly a cat of uncanny perception. Tell him unconvincingly that he needs to go away. Shut curtains. Listen to tink-tink until asleep.
Awake at five fifty-five next morning. Groggily work out that someone is going “Mrow! Mrow!” at window. Roll over so that mostly-deaf ear is presented to the open air instead of functional one. Attempt to go back to sleep. Insistent shouts of “Mrow! Mrow!” from behind curtains prevents this. Six twenty-four am sit up, blearily open eyes, pull curtain half-open, say something along the lines of “go away, Angus! Shut up!” Shut curtains again, roll onto functional ear to block sound, resume sleeping. Seven am, get woken by parents. Lie there for twenty minutes wondering if getting up is worth it. Wander into kitchen and complain about Angus. Li’l Sis notes, “I thought I heard a cat this morning.” Pause. “I heard you, too.”
Angus presents himself at back door. Yell at Angus. Angus slinks off a metre or so. Go check on Fang in the laundry. Find she hasn’t eaten her worming chews. Point at chews and explain importance of them: Fang obligingly sniffs chews, looks up, clearly saying ‘there’s no way I’m eating those.’ Swear mildly at Fang. Scold Angus for appearing at laundry door. Stalk off. Eventually leave to go into town.
As Dad said, “I think this is just the beginning of the Angus story.”
Stay tuned.
