Fluky

Yesterday’s corner time: 5 Minutes.

Although we have a cat flap through which I shoved Becca last week, we don’t actually own a cat.

I think my parents are reluctant to buy a pet having witnessed my interaction with our neighbour’s cat. It’s called Fluky as it was initially deemed to benefit from good fortune. However, I think that its luck ran out the day that it moved in next to us.

Now, I understand that cats normally have nine lives but by my calculations, Fluky probably only has about seven remaining.

This was partially due to an elementary mistake in assuming that cats were related to catfish. Fluky wasn’t too bad at the doggy paddle but when I insisted that he try the backstroke and then the butterfly, he started to encounter real difficulties.

The coup de grace was strapping a brick to his back to improve its underwater techniques.

After Fluky’s first demise, he never quite looked the same. I’m not quite sure what it was about his appearance that prompts me to say this. It may have had something to do with the fact that he was a different colour, a different size and a different sex.

Fluky certainly also behaved as if he had never laid eyes on me before. Instead of making his usual bolt for the trees, he actually approached me voluntarily and rubbed up against my leg.

Things were still remarkably cordial when a few moments later, Fluky had been bound, gagged and placed between two ramps for me to jump over on my tricycle.

As my wheels left the take-off ramp, I’m sure that I caught a glint of recognition in Fluky’s eyes as he realised that I was going to land woefully short of the landing ramp.

After Fluky’s second demise, Dad suggested that perhaps he should be renamed to something more appropriate, such as Pancake.

Matthew.

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