Every Cloud…

September 1, 2010


If any of you have been wondering why I haven’t written for a while, then I’d like to say it’s because a lot has been happening here. This is kind of true. A lot has been happening here. But an awful lot has to happen before ‘things happening’ affect me in any shape, way or form, as, to be fair, I mostly spend my time a) sitting and b) licking my feet,  so the hiatus has been mostly due to me being too hot.

But things, indeed, have been happening.

One such happening is the discovery that a sure-fire way of pissing off my Dad is to steal his Jeep from the driveway in the middle of the night, take all its contents, including The Baby’s carseat and toys, drive it so badly that all that remains of the two week old fan belt is a two millimetre wide scrap of rubber then leave it, engine smoking, with the doors open, in the middle of an Indian Reservation.

Whilst I could have hazarded a guess that this would annoy him, it’s good to know these things for sure.

Make this happen just two weeks after he spent $3000 on repairs, and he’ll be more pissed off.

Ensure this happens on the night he forgot to lock it so that it’s not covered by insurance, and he’ll rapidly lose the ability to speak.

 “We have no car, no job and no money.” said my Dad to The Mushroom.

Things were looking quite bleak.

I really fancied some Iams.

It’s difficult in the animal kingdom for any of us to ‘steal’, being as we kind of make like the Carmelites and don’t own anything. However, if I saw another cat with a mouse, I’d think, hello, you’ve caught a mouse; well done you! and then I’d go about my business. Going and trying to steal the mouse from him would be a bit weird. It’s his mouse. It would just start a fight. Nobody’s going to fight over a mouse, unless you’re another mouse. The probable consequences of trying to take the other cat’s mouse would take far more energy than going and catching my own. No cat would ever be arsed.

This probably isn’t a brilliant analogy.

In any case, naïve though it might be, I  am utterly bemused as to why anybody would want to steal my Dad’s jeep. They didn’t even want to keep it. They just wanted to drive it about a bit, nick The Baby’s stuff then break it. Perhaps their parents never took them gocarting or something.

And who would want ANOTHER CHILD’S carseat? ‘Oh, what’s this you have for me? A car seat? Covered in crayon? With raisins and little bits of stale croissant in the corner? Oh, that is lovely. Thankyou so much!’

Anyhoo…

My Dad got his car back, albeit mostly broken, courtesy of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, who found it, towed it to Canadian Tire, charged my Dad All The Money He Had Left for the privilege, and tried to make small talk whilst showing him the paperwork.

“So, I see here the vehicle was bought in Saskatchewan?” asked Chipper Copper, at 3.45 am to a shell-shocked Dad dressed only in his lounge pants.

“Erm, yes, yes I bought it there.”

“Long way to go for a vehicle.” says Chipper Copper, suspiciously. I skulked in a corner trying to work out if there was any kind of crime scenario which would necessitate buying a car in Saskatchewan. I couldn’t.

“I used to live there.” replied my Dad.

“Oh!” said Chipper Copper, “I have family out there! So how did you find Saskatchewan?”

My Dad  looked at him. “I just drove West.”

Chipper Copper nodded. He didn’t smile. “Right.” he said.

There was a pause.

“So, you’re English then?” continues Chipper Copper. My Dad couldn’t be less in the mood for this. He nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“I have a friend from England.” My Dad looked at him. “From Glasgow.”

My Dad continued to look at him.

“Right.” he said. “Now, about my Jeep…”

“Yeah,” said Chipper Copper. “You really should have locked it.”

For six days, my Dad licked his wounds. For six days, he hardly spoke, hardly slept, hardly ate and spent a lot of time staring at walls. No job, no money, no car. The Mushroom hovered around him, suggesting solutions which couldn’t work, offering him morsels to eat, worrying.

“Should we just go home?” she suggested.

“We are home.” he growled. “I’ll sort it. I promise.”

The Mushroom stroked his head, and worried some more.

And on the seventh day, he got a job. A really really really lovely, well paid teaching job.

And everything changed.

And now we’re moving again.

Please let there be no other cats please let there be no other cats please let there be no other cats…

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One Response to “Every Cloud…”

  1. Bejoux said

    Zeebling! What else is new… haven’t heard from you in a while.

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