As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some months ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
This is Chester. It's going to be an interesting morning.
When I finally make it out to the writing room, I find him sitting on my desk, next to the keyboard, with a rather benign expression.
Remembering that cats can't have expressive expressions, it worried me that he's working overtime to make me think he has one.
I can feel his eyes boring into me, following me around the room, watching and waiting.
Waiting for what I wonder.
I also remember that cats are hunters and killers. If he was a lion or a tiger I'd be in a great deal of trouble now. He'd pounce, and that would be the end.
Is this we hat he'd be doing if I let him outside?
Is he sending me a warning?
I finish what I'm doing on the other side of the room and come over to the seat.
Are you done giving me the death stare? I ask him.
A slight shake of the head, and if I wanted to write anything into it, that would be a no.
A few seconds pass, then he jumps down to the floor and walks off.
Job done, I suspect he's thinking.
Back to his least favourite dinner tonight, I'm thinking.
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