My wife knows I cant stand being caught in any silly situations. I like to think of myself as a proper bloke. But today, she crept up and peeked into the bathroom just as I was bathing our cat. I had no idea she was watching. She melted away, giggling, and I doubt Ill ever hear the end of it.
If youre a good kitty, say meow!
If youre a great kitty, say meow!
If youre my favourite kitty, say meow!
I was singing softly, scrubbing our tabby, Oliver. Normally, hed put up a proper fight: scratching, biting, yowling, the lot. But today? Maybe he fancied the serenade, or perhaps he was just shocked. He just sat there, blinking.
Well wash your back, just say meow
Well wash your little paws, just say meow
Well wash your fluffy tail, just say meow
A gentle little, Meow, slipped out.
I heard my wife, Emma, suffocating with laughter behind the door. Shame I didnt record the whole showthough knowing her, if shed caught that on camera, Id never have lived it down.
Not your style, then? Want me to sing something else, mate?
Meow.
Oliver blinked. I paused for a moment, then started another song, this time an old classic:
Rains painting on my misty windowpane,
Your sad silhouette outside, Madonna
By then, Emma was in tears with laughter.
It hit me suddenly: Id never sung to Emma, not once. Ive never been the romantic type. Ive other strengths, surebut the cat? He gets whole performances! Maybe it should make her jealous, but she was too busy laughing to mind.
Meanwhile, Oliver chimed in with another soft, mournful Meow, and I switched to another childhood tune, Those Magic Swings in the Sky. I was seriously losing the plot.
At this point, Emma must have known shed be caught if she didnt run for cover, so she ducked out, barely stifling her giggles as the bath finished up and I wrapped Oliver in a towel, about as dignified as a drowned rat.
I barely had time to regain my composure before I slipped into a silly tune from one of those kids shows:
Fiddle-faddle telly box,
Fiddle-faddle telly box,
Fiddle-faddle telly box
Just then, from the living room, Emma joined in, belting out, And two Fixies inside! She collapsed onto the sofa cackling, and I could hear her hiccupping between gasps for air.
A few minutes later, me and the catboth thoroughly offendedstrode into the lounge, still dripping and altogether put out. Emma buried her face in a cushion, shaking with silent laughter.
We left her to it, giving her as withering a look as two English gentlemena man and his catcould manage, and made our way to the kitchen in silence.
Looking back, I realise its good to let down your guard sometimes. Maybe next time, Ill serenade Emma as well. Theres more to being a proper bloke than just acting toughevery now and then, a daft song for someone you love makes all the difference.
