June 14, 2022
Last night, our cat Oscar slept curled up right against my wife, pressing his back firmly into her and shoving me away as though he owned the bed all four paws working overtime. And as if that wasnt enough, he had the nerve to give me a cheeky, knowing glance in the morning, full of mockery. I grumbled, but what could I do? Hes a sweetheart, my little sunshine, Jane would say, stifling a giggle, while I failed to see the funny side.
Oscar didnt just get away with snubbing me at night. No, he was the king of the household in the daytime too. Jane fried up some lovely cod for him, carefully picking out the bones, then stacking the crispy skin in a neat little pile next to the warm, flaky fillets on his dish. All while I was served the scraps whatever Oscar turned his nose up at, thats what landed on my plate. To put it bluntly, he had me wrapped around his little paw, and Ill admit, I engaged in my own mild acts of revenge: gently nudging him from the sofa or shuffling his plate an inch too far. It was a cold war and we both knew the front lines by heart.
Sometimes, Id find hidden gifts in my slippers, and Jane would simply laugh and say, Serves you right for being mean to him. She always gave Oscar a loving pat, while he just stared at me with that superior British indifference, as if to remind me of my place. Still, what could I say? Jane is the love of my life, and talking back was never really an option, so I just learned to live with it.
But this morning, everything changed. Whilst I got ready for work, Jane suddenly squealed from the hallway. I dashed over to find Oscar transformed: six kilos of tangled grey fur, claws out, and an expression that would terrify a rugby player. He leapt at Jane like she was waving a Man United scarf in Liverpool. The moment Oscar caught sight of me, he sprang toward my chest, knocking me to the floor. Heart pounding, I stumbled up, grabbed a chair as a shield, and pulled Jane into the bedroom. Oscar yowled and crashed into the chair leg, but it barely slowed him down. He kept hissing and clawing at the door until we finally managed to slam it shut.
Safe at last, we mopped up our battle scars with antiseptic and plasters from the first-aid box. Jane rang her office. Sorry, Ill be late this morning. Our cats gone berserk and attacked us weve got to go to the hospital. I followed suit, relaying the same story to my boss, almost word for word.
Just then, a tremor shook the whole building. The kitchen window shattered, and I dropped my mobile in shock. For a moment, the world was utterly silent. With the cat crisis forgotten, we rushed to the kitchen and peered outside.
A massive crater gaped in the road before our flat. Fragments of metal and glass littered the street where our neighbours little Ford Transit had once been. The poor lad mustve parked up with his petrol tank overfilled because now his van was in a dozen pieces. Wrecked cars lay toppled like overturned tortoises as police and ambulances howled in the distance.
Stunned, Jane and I turned to look at Oscar. He sat trembling in the corner, cradling his front right paw, quietly whimpering. Jane dashed to scoop him up, cradling him close. I grabbed the car keys, and together we flew down all seven flights of stairs avoiding the lift and taking two steps at a time, racing past other startled tenants.
Forgive me, but while many suffered from the explosion, our only thought was for our injured cat.
Thank heavens our Vauxhall was parked out back, unscathed. I hopped in and sped off to our local vet, the radio just happening to play Michael Nymans The Heart Asks Pleasure First, echoing the turmoil in my chest.
An hour later, Jane emerged from the clinic carrying Oscar like treasure. The moment we re-entered the waiting room, Oscar, with his bandaged paw, became an instant hero. People came over to stroke his head or gently pat his back after hearing about the mornings events.
Back at home, Jane made Oscar his favourite cod just how he liked it, bones picked and skin neatly set aside. Once again, my dinner was what Oscar rejected. This time, limping on three legs, Oscar dragged himself over to his dish. He tried his usual condescending stare, but ended up wincing in pain.
I was meant to be busy, but after a moment, I walked over, took my own pieces of fish, removed the bones, and placed them in Oscars bowl.
Oscar stared up at me, astonished, his good paw tucked under his chin as he made a questioning meow. I picked him up, and, nose to nose, whispered, Maybe Im a bit of a loser, Oscar. But with a wife and a cat like you, I reckon Im the happiest loser Englands ever seen. I kissed his furry head.
Oscar let out a gentle purr and rubbed his big head against my cheek. I set him down, and, despite the pain, he hungrily ate his cod while Jane and I watched, arms around each other.
Since that day, Oscar sleeps pressed up against me. Sometimes he gazes right into my eyes, and all I can do is silently pray for many more years with Jane and Oscar by my side.
And honestly, thats all I ever want. Nothing more.
Because thats what true happiness is.
