Joe Murray: Stories

3. excuse my French

Bibs wandered in and sat near me while I was having my coffee and croissant on my little chair out in the garden.
“Croissant, eh?” she said.
I try to ignore her. I can’t encourage her as my own wee cat doesn’t like her much.
“D’ye like French stuff?” she asked.
“Oui,” I replied.
“Oooooo,” she mocked, “alors tu parles français?” She chuckled, she obviously doesn’t like me and I have no idea why she even hangs around.
She did that thing cats do: paws out front arse in the air and stretched her back. “I once had a French Chartreux try to hit on me. They’re a kinda blue colour, y’know?”
“Yes,” I said, then possibly a little too smugly. “did he suggest you had a little Chat together?”
“Ha, wit,” she said, “the insolence of the educated. I imagine you have an O level or two?”
“A PhD, in fact,” said I proudly.
“Oh, yer a PHUD are ye?” She got up and walked away, then stopped and turned, “see what I did there, Big Man?”


Articles/ Thoughts Poems COPYRIGHT © 2021 Dr Joe Murray		Bibs the Cat we’re all family, really a little feline philosophy excuse my french on the cludgie the baby a lesson in socialism sleeping with the enemy on the level a little black and white philosophy the magpie ultimatum Indy Cat? Who’s the Daddy? It's no about flags Video Stories Alasdair Gray & the Book of Prefaces Keekin Through Windaes The Two Heifers The Congo The Hotdog Other Stories Aye, right ennuf a natural balance a short tale of woe Maggie and the Little Pollok Carpet
	3. excuse my French Bibs wandered in and sat near me while I was having my coffee and croissant on my little chair out in the garden. “Croissant, eh?” she said. I try to ignore her. I can’t encourage her as my own wee cat doesn’t like her much. “D’ye like French stuff?” she asked. “Oui,” I replied. “Oooooo,” she mocked, “alors tu parles français?” She chuckled, she obviously doesn’t like me and I have no idea why she even hangs around. She did that thing cats do: paws out front arse in the air and stretched her back. “I once had a French Chartreux try to hit on me. They’re a kinda blue colour, y’know?” “Yes,” I said, then possibly a little too smugly. “did he suggest you had a little Chat together?” “Ha, wit,” she said, “the insolence of the educated. I imagine you have an O level or two?” “A PhD, in fact,” said I proudly. “Oh, yer a PHUD are ye?” She got up and walked away, then stopped and turned, “see what I did there, Big Man?”