Thursday, 6 September 2012
I was rudely awakened from my afternoon nap the other day by the distant sound of heavy rumbling. Now, I for one have to confess that I'm not at my best when I'm suddenly wakened; I become very irritable, and my natural grace takes a temporary hike. Can't even a cat get some damn sleep these days? So, in a somewhat dazed state, I wandered to the town to see if I could ascertain the source of the noise.
It didn't take me very long to discover that the reason for the loud and obtrusive rumbling: the soothsayers were excitedly informing the uninterested citizens of Streonaeshalch that Dagwald Caedmeron - Senior Dog-biscuit and Shepherdess of the Tree/Liberationist Alliance Administration - was shuffling his Cabinet. This piece of news immediately furnished me with the reason for my broken slumber, so in a better state of health than temper, I took myself over to Caddy Boy's residence with a view to passing on to him the benefits of my opinion on the matter. (I'd sharpened my claws beforehand.)
When I approached the Official Residence of the aforesaid miscreant, I noticed that Caddy was busily engaged in discarding the statuettes and ornaments from his beloved Cabinet and lovingly replacing them with new idols and nick-nacks. The irritability that had propelled me there soon dissolved into puzzlement when I realised that rather than throwing out the replaced objects into a sack for a swift conveyance to the municipal dump, Caedmeron was placing them into a beautiful shrine, and I saw that these discarded items were going to be blessed and venerated for worship by His Holiness Archbishop Georges Moonbat, the Senior Bone-Thrower and Leading Authority of the enigmatic Global Warming Cult.
Now, if I'd previously suspected that Caddy Boy was endowed with somewhat peculiar personality traits, this spectacle left me in no possible doubt. I'm a keen observer of human habits and customs, and I've been around long enough to realise that when humans have had enough of their toys, tools and mouldy bread-crusts, they simply throw them out without any due ceremony. So why was Caddy Boy turning over his trash for such honour and veneration? Is this bizarre behaviour the consequence of the habitual chewing of magic mushrooms?
I decided that in view of his parlous state of intoxication, I'd spare Caddy my teeth and claws. A fur-ball was sufficient.