A case for exorcism

Visitor to dinner. They spend ages talking about whether it’s dinner, tea or supper. Don’t matter to me. It’s food. It’s either mine or it’s not. She does some weird things with some fish. Fish isn’t my favourite. I wouldn’t turn it down but I wouldn’t do what she did either. Fish skin’s nice, says the voice. She spent ages chopping and crushing and squeezing stinky things, sharp things and spicy things which she put all over the fish. But then she didn’t eat it or even cook it. She put it on a dish and wrapped it up and put it in a cupboard. This is a funny cupboard because she keeps other food in there too like milk and cheese. Peculiar thing is that things come out of there cold and they’re not cold coming out of the other food cupboards. Underneath that cupboard is another one with all the food frozen into solid lumps. There’s another one of these cupboards in Catflap Cottage and it has a wall-string because I can stick my nose round the back of it so I reckon that this must be a wall-string-cold-cupboard too.
So this bit of fish all wrapped up in its stinky-sharp-spicy sauce was left in the wall-string-cold-cupboard for a whole day and then she cooked it. What a palaver.

You wait till you get to try ice-cream, says the voice. That’s what the wall-string-freezy-cupboard is for.

In the morning she said some cat words because the house wasn’t warm. She could have just stayed in her bed and then she’d have been warm but, no, off to work. Then she got a book out and I thought, great, we’ll curl up while she reads and I snore. But this wasn’t that sort of a book. She took it upstairs and looked in a cupboard where she keeps covers for the beds and towels. More cat words. There’s a big box in there with a lot of wall-strings. It’s got flashing lights but not like the wall-string-twinkles. It seems to have something to do with warming the house up. Strikes me that isn’t natural. She pokes at it a bit and turns some handles and then says even more cat words. “Ok Mossie, we’ll have to light the fire”. The fire here is nice. It’s got strange magical coal that she never needs to refill. I spend the evening getting nearer and nearer to the magic coal. Every time I get nearer, she drags me back again. But being warm in winter is just grand. Even if I risk my tail being burnt.

“Night night Mossie, night night Bella”. Curl up warm, colliewobble. Says the voice.

And then when we wake up this morning, the wall-string-house-warmer is buzzing away and the house is warm. Possessed.