Posted inThe Knowledge

The kamikaze cat

David Clack is after a promotion – but Gregory Fluffles has other ideas…

For the last two weeks, I have been held hostage. Too afraid to sleep and too anxious to relax, I’ve become a pale, withdrawn wreck – a prisoner in my own home and a shadow of my former self. But my captor isn’t demanding the freedom of his persecuted comrades or a chopper with a tank full of fuel – he just wants his belly rubbed and a piece of string to chase. His name is Gregory Fluffles. He is my boss’s cat. And he’s the cutest, furriest terrorist who ever lived.

It’s not that he’s a particularly vicious creature (that said, try wrestling his favourite stuffed mouse off him at your peril), it’s just that he seems all too aware of the unique power that he wields. Placed in my trusty hands while the editor enjoys a lovely European holiday, all this cutesy little scamp has to do is get himself sick, injured, or into an otherwise less-than-perfect condition and I’ll never work in this town again. And I’m pretty sure he knows it.

Aside from a brief cat litter/cat food mix-up, it all started well enough. But then, one morning last week, I left my apartment without giving him his usual five minutes of play time. I felt bad, but after a restless night I’d slept through my alarm and was running massively late for work. When I returned that evening, the reception was certainly frosty, but after filling up his dinner bowl, it seemed all was forgiven. That was until I loaded up the washing machine and, as I was about to press the ‘boil wash’ button, noticed something moving beneath the pile of soiled gym kit. I’d sensed a touch of evil in this cat from the off, but not for a second had I suspected I was dealing with an animal of such malice that it’d happily sacrifice its own life to see me fired.

Thankfully, since today’s the last day I have Gregory Fluffles in my care, I’m on the home stretch. All sharp objects have been locked away, all electrical sockets covered with sticky tape and, with the boss touching down in 12 hours’ time, I’m pretty certain that promotion is in the bag. Hang on a second… when was the last time I fed him?