It’s with a heavy heart and an angry mind that I stomp around the kitchen, tidying, loading the dishwasher, emptying the bin, muttering darkly about mindless fools who crash into your car and then drive off. Changing the cat litter, taking out the rubbish, rooting through the cupboards for chocolate of some description, throwing imaginary rocks at heads of said mindless fools.
In the middle of all this, Kat has discovered the mop bucket (complete with dirty water) sitting at the back door. She clambers on to the low window sill to get a better angle for investigation, and sticks her head in.
“KAT!” I bellow with unmerited rage, “Get your stupid head out of the mop bucket NOW!”
Kat scuttles off, offended, and I pause from my general madness to respond to a text message. I find some Reese’s Cups* behind the teabags. As I sit down to eat them and read some blogs, I hear a series of clunks, a howl, and some frantic scuffling.
Kat has fallen into the mop bucket.
I get up to make sure she hasn’t drowned, and then just stand there laughing as she flies past me, dripping and traumatised. “I warned you,” I call after her as she disappears into the hotpress to dry out.
Sometimes it takes something simple, like the cat falling into a mop bucket, to give you back your perspective. You see, this is exactly why I have a cat.
*Dirk introduced me to Reese’s Cups at the cinema one night. They are chocolates with peanut butter inside. They are truly amazing.