My Mum is letting me send you this post-holiday post-card. Between you and me, I think she's got a bit of a conscience.
It's true that my Mum means well, but she does make some very unfair decisions. Were she writing this post-card I know you'd get a very different explanation for our woefully curtailed holiday.
But I'm an honest cat and, paw on heart, this is the true story.
Tell me what you think.
When a hard-working cat goes on holiday, when she behaves perfectly at the hotel and everyone says how good she is, when her beauty is the subject of general admiration . . . why should her Mum whisk her off home again after only three days?
Wouldn't you agree that it's just not fair.
Let me illustrate what I mean.
See how good I am in the hotel lounge . . . no unseemly scratching . . . no miaowing . . . not a sign of bad behaviour.
And don't I blend in well with the furniture . . . ?Then there's my exemplary behaviour in the hotel garden . . . I'm alert . . . interested . . . thoroughly well-haved.
Surely no cat could do better . . . ?
And, as I would advise any potential climbers, it takes more than three days to become adept at climbing box trees on Box Hill.You go up with zest . . .
. . . but you come down with extreme caution . . . there are rabbits on Box Hill and no self-respecting cat would want to make a fool of herself.As far as food is concerned, three days is nowhere near long enough to teach the helpful waiter how I like my chicken cooked.
Nor is it long enough to explain to the kindly chambermaid that my Mum drapes rugs over the bedroom chairs because I like rugs, not because I might scratch the chairs.
In planning a holiday that lasted for only three days, did my Mum appreciate all these vital facts?
No!
Then, to compound her thoughtlessness, look what happens next. When, despite my vocal protestations, we finally arrived back home, wouldn't you have thought that she'd have spent some time consoling me, and apologising for what I'd been forced to abandon?
Not on your life! There she was, back on her computer . . . out shopping . . . talking on the phone . . . her distressed cat's sense of deprivation and shock completely ignored.
So, please, after you've read this post-card, will you speak out on my behalf?
Will you tell my Mum that three days is far too short for a holiday?
As you can see, there's only one thing left for me to do . . . to close my eyes and dream of Box Hill.
But it isn't the same . . . you can't smell the rabbits in a dream!
