The Broken Watch
Copyright© 2015 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 7
The cat was in the house ... somewhere. I ransacked the place. I found him in the master bedroom. He was sleeping in the middle OF MY DOWN COMFORTER.
"Murrowf?" he questioned. Who are you and what are you doing in my house.
"I live here," I said ... miffed. "Shouldn't you be outside?"
"Mergurgle?" Are you insane. It's twenty below.
"How did you get in?"
"Murggle."
He pulled himself up and stretched, kneaded the quilt, looked up and saw I was still there, walked over to the edge and jumped. He head-butted my ankles.
I stepped back.
This was the reaction he was looking for. He butted again. I stepped back.
Eventually, we were at the backdoor ... he went out a very professional pet door and came back in.
"Marrggle."
"I see. Who did that?"
"Purrmurft," and he looked in the direction of the front door. I walked out of the kitchen.
Doctor Janie burst through the front door racking her Remington 870 Express Tactical Twelve, "Oh ... it's you."
"Nice to see you, too, Janie. You didn't need to sound so disappointed."
Tom up tailed and twined her ankles. "Nang," distinctly, "Naang."
"She did it," I said.
Tom sat on his haunches and cleaned a paw.
"I did what?"
"Cat door," I accused.
"Yeah ... the neighbors were going to kill him. We figured it was all your fault so ... I had a cat door put in. You owe me a hundred bucks."
"Why were the neighbors upset?"
Tom, ever ready with a joke, said, "YEOWLL!!"
"All night long ... up and down the alley yowling ... standing at your backdoor ... yowling ... a week went by and you didn't come home so I asked at the hospital," she said, "Did you really scrape your ... off?"
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