Joe Murray: Stories

7. sleeping with the enemy

Guys’ll know that moment when your wife catches you looking at another woman’s butt. Well, I felt that same guilt this morning. Maddie, our cat, strolled up, sat down next to me then sat staring at me. I looked down at her and her stare never wavered.

“What?” I asked. “I put your food in your bowl.”
Still the stare. “Jan’s cleaned out your tray.”
Still the stare. In case you don’t know, cats can look into your very soul. I shuddered a bit and felt the guilt for the: ‘I have no idea what I did wrong, but it must have been my fault’, flood over me. Only catholic men can ever truly know that feeling. I decided to feel the fear and go for it anyway.
“Right, c’mon, what have I done wrong now? – and for the record, I am not married to you!”
Without wavering she made one of those slow blinks only a cat can make, and said, “you’ve been fraternising with the enemy.”
“Well,” said I, “to be fair, Bibs is female so it would be more correct to say soroz….”
“Keep yer who-man semantics to yourself, they have no place in a cat’s world,” she yowled.
“But,” I pleaded, “it’s Bibs, she comes over here, I don’t invite or soro… fraternise with her… she is always extremely rude to me – and she disrespects and demeans me… every single time. She mocks me!” I cried.
Maddie climbed onto her four paws. She moved a little towards me while continuing her cold stare, “my point exactly, who-man! THAT, is my job.”

I’ve always fancied having an Alpaca. Maybe I should Google Alpacas.


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
	7. sleeping with the enemy Guys’ll know that moment when your wife catches you looking at another woman’s butt. Well, I felt that same guilt this morning. Maddie, our cat, strolled up, sat down next to me then sat staring at me. I looked down at her and her stare never wavered. “What?” I asked. “I put your food in your bowl.” Still the stare. “Jan’s cleaned out your tray.” Still the stare. In case you don’t know, cats can look into your very soul. I shuddered a bit and felt the guilt for the: ‘I have no idea what I did wrong, but it must have been my fault’, flood over me. Only catholic men can ever truly know that feeling. I decided to feel the fear and go for it anyway. “Right, c’mon, what have I done wrong now? – and for the record, I am not married to you!” Without wavering she made one of those slow blinks only a cat can make, and said, “you’ve been fraternising with the enemy.” “Well,” said I, “to be fair, Bibs is female so it would be more correct to say soroz….” “Keep yer who-man semantics to yourself, they have no place in a cat’s world,” she yowled. “But,” I pleaded, “it’s Bibs, she comes over here, I don’t invite or soro… fraternise with her… she is always extremely rude to me – and she disrespects and demeans me… every single time. She mocks me!” I cried. Maddie climbed onto her four paws. She moved a little towards me while continuing her cold stare, “my point exactly, who-man! THAT, is my job.” I’ve always fancied having an Alpaca. Maybe I should Google Alpacas.