BEDTIME STORY

Taupo Times, Volume II, Issue 82, 12 August 1953, Page 5

BEDTIME STORY

THE PROTESTANT CAT I was allergic to cats till I made the acquaintance of Smoky. This feeling of antipathy dates back to one night, years ago, when as the guest of a dear old lady who kept three cats I occupied a bedroom on the first floor. During the night I awoke with a feeling of impending suffocation and a weight on my chest. I switched on the light and saw one of the cats had elected to keep me company. I heaved it off the bed, switched off the light and composed my ruffled feelings for another spot of slumber. I had no sooner snuggled down than the cat jumped on the bed again and began, in the manner of its kind, to pad about the quilt to make another soft spot for itself. "Well, my friend," I remarked to myself, as I switched on the light and slid out of the bed, "you've torn it this time." So saying, I took it by the scruff of the neck, carried it to the casement window and dropped | it some twenty feet to the lawn below. "Monster!" I can hear some of the Taupo ladies exclaim. Nothing of the sort. There was a full muster of cats for breakfast the following morning and you couldn't tell from their appearance which one had taken a toss the night before. Cats reputedly have nine lives and if the feline disturber of my slumbers had lost one he still had j eight more in hand. About Smoky. He was owned by neighbours across the road and when they changed their place of residence for' a district fifty miles away he was promised to the priest of the Catholic Parish, who had taken a fancy to him. Smoky, by the way, got his name from his colour, a sort of sooty grey. When the time came for him to 'be handed over, Smoky was not amongst those present. When he did appear, some days later, it was on our back verandah, making signs that he would like to be fed and adopted, especially fed. 3o we fed him and then took him in the car to the Catholic Presbytery and handed him over. He had a j cordial reception, and that, we supposed, was that.

Next morning Smoky was back on our verandah. I rang up His Reyerence and told him. "Dear, dear," he said. "Fll come up and get him." Smoky was duly collected and taken back to the Presbytgry. Next morning he was back once AP-ain on our verandah.

I rang up His Reverence once more. ''Look here, Father, I've come to the conclusion that %Smoky must be a Protestant." j His Reverence decided that he had better give up the idea as a bad job. Smoky now lives with us. Strictly speaking, he feeds with us. When he has filled his stomach he disappears, sometimes for two or three days at a time, returning looking like nothing on earth, with ears bitten and all the signs of a terrific hangover. My wife on these occasions goes into a flutter of sympathy I and concern. I look at him and grin. "Smoky," I say, "you're a man after I my own heart." I That's whv I like him.

— D.