Jemima

I was 33 on 8th, so on 7th we had a BBQ with some old student friends, a few family, etc. And of course, the cats.

As we had guests staying over, we had to tidy up the spare room. In this room is a single mattress leaning against the wall. Jasper often sits atop it, sleeping or just surveying the world with a watchful eye.

Today, though, we had put the washing basket up there, to get it out of the way. As we continued tidying, we heard the sound of paw-thumps coming up the stairs, and a streak of black lightning launched itself up the side of the mattress, only to come to a stop when he realised his path was blocked.

For a moment, he just hung in Velcro-cat position on the side of the mattress. Then he delicately picked his way onto the top, and into the washing basket.

Now by this time, the mattress was looking less than secure. In fact it was swaying slightly. I reached up to steady it, as I thought it was about to fall towards me, and was just about to say something to Cathi when the *mattress* swung towards me (there were other things in front of it, so I knew it couldn't actually fall over), while the basket upended itself and disappeared over the *other* side. Poor Jasper went tumbling down in a mix of washing and shirt hangers, and just when he had found his paws again, the basket landed too. A very startled black cat then streaked out of the room again, and sat on the landing looking rather bemused and licking his hurt pride.

Fortunately it was only his pride which was damaged.

Now when there are a lot of strange people around, Jasper tends to disappear. Jemima, however, is also known as Tabby Tart. She will spread her favours among anyone who will give her a tickle. But she knows who is boss. On Sunday morning, my friend Gordon was reading the paper when Jem came in from the garden. It had been raining, and her paws were somewhat soggy. She jumped up on the arm of the chair beside Gordon, and walked across the paper and his t-shirt, leaving muddy great paw prints all across them.

So Gordon looks at his t-shirt, looks at Jem, now sitting on the other arm of the chair, and says "You 'orrible cat. Get down, you're not getting on me again until your paws are dry."

With which Jem looked straight up at him, and walked straight across his t-shirt again, back to the first arm of the chair.

And turned around, and walked across him again....

And turned around, and walked across him again...

And again.....

Never stopping to settle on his lap like she usually does. Every time, just walking straight across to the other arm.

By this time, the rest of us were all in fits of laughter. Meanwhile Jem, having made her point, now came over to me, jumped up and settled on my lap.

Copyright © Richard Miller & Cathi Martin
August 10, 1999