Kitten Pie:

You've all heard of Peter Rabbit, and how Peter nearly ended up in a pie made by Mrs. McGregor, right? Well, I've got a new twist on this story, a tale all about how Ebony Kitten almost ended up in a pie made by Mr Sykes...

A little background first. A couple of months ago, not long after I adopted Ebony, my elderly grandfather finally made a strategic retreat (not admitting defeat, no, not at all), sold his house and moved in with us. Like many men he professes not to like cats, and at times he does get irritated with both of mine, but at others, especially when no one else is around, he's quite fascinated by them. Ivory he calls 'Greta' after Greta Garbo, because she always 'vants to be alone'. Ebony he just curses, because she's often underfoot, and the other night he tripped over her and broke the glass he was carrying. As you can imagine, Ebony was already somewhat out of favor already.

Saturday mornings around here is baking day. Not that this means my mother or I are baking . . oh, no, we're cowering in our beds (presuming we having escaped the house early and driven somewhere just to get away) staying Out Of The Way. Because Saturday morning is the morning that Grandad, amidst much cursing his own infirmities, bakes wondrous delights for desert that evening.

Well, this morning he was baking custard squares. Oh YUM! I'd gotten up early, before he arose, to feed the cats, and make a timely retreat back to bed. Ivory followed me back down, but Ebony didn't, remaining behind in the kitchen/dining/lounge area to chase flies and generally make mischief.

Grandad got up and commenced baking. He rolled out the pastry all nice and neat, and arranged it just so on the tray. He pricked the surface so it wouldn't rise too much, then place the tray aside on a kitchen chair, while he rolled out the next piece. One moment the peace and serenity of a productive kitchen . .the next "Oh DAMN AND BLAST IT . . .GET OUT OF HERE YOU BLOODY WEE MONSTER" . . the chaos and destruction of a productive kitten. One flying cat flew to the other end of the room as various bowls fell to the floor as Grandad dove for her. For Her Highness, the Princess Ebony Starmoon had gotten too curious for her own good, jumped up on the chair, and landed SPLAT in the middle of Grandad's pastry, then dug her claws in when the surface proved to be somewhat different to what she expected. They say curiosity killed the cat, but Ebony's curiosity nearly got her baked in a pie. Needless to say, Grandad was not amused when I pointed out that she was only helping by using her claws to prick the pastry more. Funny thing is, this lot of custard squares is the best he's ever made. Must be the secret ingredient - cat mischief (or was that just cat fur?).

Copyright © Maryrose Lockerbie
March 11, 2000