Читать книгу A.K.A. Fudgepuddle - Fin J Ross - Страница 7

I wake up feeling a bit thick headed, like you do when you've enjoyed a really deep sleep and you're not really sure whether you're awake or whether you're still dreaming. I yawn and stretch my front legs out, spreading my claws. I roll onto my back and take a lazy glance out the window, with my legs still stretched out above my head. Nope, I wasn't dreaming. This is heaven on a fishstick, this place. I suddenly realise there's a lot of whispering going on around me. I prick my ears up.

'Shh, I think she's awake.'

'Must be, can't hear the snoring any more.'

Oh, oh, I have a terrible feeling they're talking about me.

'Could you possibly snore any louder?' Maharani asks.

'Who, me? I don't snore! I never snore.'

'Oh yes you do,' comes a number of voices in unison.

'We all had to put our heads under our blankets or armpits to drown you out during catnap hour,' Red and Mars remark.

'I definitely think you're a candidate for aerobics, you need to get that heart pumping and get some air in those lungs. We'll be starting soon,' Maharani says with a flourish of her tail.

'So what are we waiting for?'

'The music of course. Miss Steph always turns the music on at two o'clock. But you might as well get down and start with some stretching exercises.'

'Oh, okay,' I say, reluctantly. I notice Maharani wriggling her chokeystrap up over her ears and onto her forehead. 'What on earth are you doing?'

'It keeps the fur out of my eyes, okay. I mean, you can't exercise properly with fur in your eyes,' she explains condescendingly, as though I should have known all about this gym club fashion faux pas.

'I've gotta say I've never really had that problem. You look like Olivia Newton John in Let's Get Cynical. Thank God you haven't got a leotard.'

I'm making my way down the ramp, I hear speakers - right over my head - crackle to life with the opening refrain of Cool for Cats which is, without a doubt, my absolutely favouristest song of all time. I look over and see Maharani putting her front paws up on the ramp.

'Here, watch me,' she says, 'I'll show you all the moves.'

I get myself into position and follow her lead. First we press our shoulders forward until our chest touches the ramp. We do that a few times. Then we turn around and spread our back legs and try to touch both sides of our pens with our front paws. That takes quiet a bit of effort for me and I know there's no way I'm going to reach.

Then she's got me standing on my hind legs stretching my whole body as high as it can go and next I'm on the floor doing puss-ups. This is getting pretty exhausting, I must say, and I feel like I'm about to break into a sweat.

'Hey, slow down a bit, will you?' I call out.

'What do you mean slow down? This is just the warm-up.'

'Cripes,' I pant. 'Well I think that's it for me. I'm gonna throw in the towel.'

'Oh, you're really puss-weak; you're never going to lose that flab if you don't put in the hard work. Don't tell me you're like Zsa Zsa and would rather pay someone to do your exercises for you.'

'Well it is all so unladylike,' says Zsa Zsa. 'And quite unbecoming to a feeli of my pedigree.'

'Hah, I s'pose you think your kackapod doesn't stink,' Rocky remarks.

'I am not even going to deign to answer that, you horrid wuzzer. It would be quite beneath my dignity.'

'Everything's beneath your dignity, Zsa. You've got that much stuff beneath you it's no wonder you sit up there so high and mighty,' Rocky says.

'Pfffft,' Zsa Zsa spits. 'And you only think you're tough because they put your tattoo on the outside of your ear. I bet you're really just all hiss and wind.' She scratches the carpety stuff on her ramp 'Oh, darn it, I've broken a nail.'

'Well I am tough, I'll show you all my scars to prove it,' Rocky protests.

'Young man, if you were so tough you wouldn't have any scars because you'd never come off second best. I bet Big Dan doesn't have any scars, do you?' Zsa Zsa says condescendingly.

'No madam, you're quite right, I have no scars and you have to look very closely to see my tattoo.'

I wish I could get to see Big Dan. His voice is enough to make me go weak at the knees; I'd love to know what he looks like. He sounds like such a gentlefeeli.

'When I was young, all the other kisskies in the street would goad and taunt me, trying to get me to fight, I guess because I was always so much bigger than them. I did box professionally for a while, but I found it all a bit pointless really, because I always won.

Sometimes I'd just give my look and they'd back off and wuss away with their tail between their legs. But I was quite famous there for a while. I still have some clippings from the Cat 'o' Nine Tales Weekly.'

'Wow,' Roger says, 'maybe you could teach me some basics. There's this absolute ratbag feeli next door at home who's always picking on me.'

'Well, I guess I could run classes, if anyone else is interested, eh Rocky?'

'I really doubt you could teach me anything. Like I said before, I'm tough.'

'I would be honoured to join your class,' the snobby-sounding British blue says. 'I never got to learn boxing while on active duty. That was something that was frowned upon by us officers, but secretly I always wanted to try it. Maybe I could be your enrolment officer, it would give me something to do.'

'Sure thing, if you'd like, Colonel,' Big Dan replies.

'Colonel Montgomery Enfield the Third at your service.'

'Shhh,' Maharani hisses, 'my favourite song's coming on.'

With that, Tom Cat Jones starts crooning, 'What's new pussycat? Whoa oo oh oo oh oh'. Maharani starts singing along and I hear a few other voices chime in too, so I figure I might as well join in too. 'Pussycat, pussycat-'

'Who on earth is that singing so flat?' comes a voice from a few pens down. 'If you're going to join in, please allow me to give you some private tuition first. We can't just have anyone piping in and spoiling it all.'

'Who's that?' I ask Maharani.

'Oh that's Finny, the singing teacher. You should listen to her, she's a beautiful singer. Voice like an angel. But then she's gorgeous to look at, too. She's a really pretty ragdoll. Some girls just have it all. Actually, I take that back; because there's one thing she can't do. She can't dance, she's just too floppy. You know, typical ragdoll. She lifts one leg and just falls over sideways. Completely and utterly uncoordinated. Her deuxjambs call her Sheba but Miss Steph calls her Bootiful.'

'So does Miss Steph have her own name for all of us?'

'Some of us, but I think it's only if she thinks you're special or if you're here long enough,' Maharani says.

'So what does she call you?'

'Princess, which I'm quite happy with really.'

'And what does she call Rocky?'

'Boofhead, or sometimes just Boof or Boofy,' Maharani says with a giggle.

'That's nearly as bad as Ralph, which is what my deuxjambs call me,' Rocky confesses.

'And before you ask, it was Miss Steph who first called me Zsa Zsa, and it's sort of stuck.'

'Oh, okay, so what does she call you, Big Dan?'

'Fess. She calls me Fess and I have no idea why.'

'Oh Big Dan,' says the Colonel, 'it's so obvious. Haven't you ever watched Daniel Boone?'

'What or who is Daniel Boone?' Big Dan asks.

The Colonel explains and I can almost hear the light globe going on over Big Dan's head. 'Huh, well I had no idea. That explains a lot. Oh yes, it explains a lot of the things she whispers in my ear.'

'Like what?'

'That's for me to know. But let's just say we have a bit of an understanding, Miss Steph and I.'

'Oh do you now,' says Rocky. 'Miss Steph and I have an understanding, too. She whispers to me too, you know.'

'And me,' says Maharani.

'What does she call you, Colonel?' I ask.

'Ahem. Monty Boy. Very unflattering for a feeli of my rank and social standing.'

'I'd take it as a compliment. She either thinks you're younger or cuter than you are.'

'I'd never thought of it that way.' The Colonel nods. 'Maybe you're right, young lady.'

'Jeez, I haven't been called that for a while.'

'So what does she call Beethoven and Roger and Blacky?'

'Beethoven she calls Snowman, and Roger she calls… Roger,' Maharani answers.

'Oh so she doesn't think you're special Rog?'

'She hasn't even got to know me yet. I've only been here a couple of days. But she calls Blacky, Possum, which is really not that far off because we call him Rabbit.'

'Why Rabbit?'

'Because when he runs, he always lifts both back paws at once, so he looks like he's hopping.'

'Oh,' I nod knowingly. 'Don't know how I'm going to remember all these names; it's all so confusing,' I confess.

'Don't worry darl, you'll get the hang of it in no time,' Big Dan says soothingly.

'Hey guys, isn't it time for drama class to start?' Roger asks excitedly.

I'm not sure I'm up for this so I meander back up the ramp and turn a few circles on the bed, prodding, clawing and pronkledonking it into shape. I plonk down. No, it's not quite right. I stand again and repeat the routine just to be sure.

Yep, that's better. I feel like I'm in a front row dress-circle seat in a fine theatre, just waiting for the show to begin.

'Now', says Zsa Zsa, 'we're up to the balcony scene, so Maharani you need to get up on the top shelf pronto and you need to look sort of innocent but sexy at the same time.'

'Yeah, I can do that. So where's Rocky?'

'He's down below in the courtyard sort of mincing around when he sees you appear.'

'Okay, I'm ready,' says Rocky.

'Okay, off you go then,' says Zsa Zsa.

Rocky clears his throat, paces to the front of his pen and adopts a statuesque stance. Then he looks up in the air as though he sees something important. I can't imagine what. And then he speaks:

'But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet's in the sun-'

'No, no Rocky, it's "Juliet is the sun" not Juliet's in the sun,' Zsa Zsa corrects.

'But how can a deuxjamb be the sun? I don't get it. Where do they come up with this stuff?'

'Never mind, just keep going.'

'I would if you'd stop interrupting me. Where was I? Ah yes:

'Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon…'

Rocky's voice puts me into a sort of sleepy daze and I struggle to keep my eyes open. I look across and see Maharani pacing along her shelf, waiting for her lead in.

'…And sails upon the bosom of the air.'

Rocky cracks up: 'Bosom of the air - how can the air have bosoms?'

'Oh Rocky, please try not to live up to my expectations of you. You've spoiled my scene, can't you ever just do it right?'

'Come on Maharani, just ignore him and keep going,' Zsa Zsa says.

'Okay, okay,' Maharani resumes her pose, and says"

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name: Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Catlet.

'Very good, Maharani, very good,' Zsa Zsa applauds.

Maharani flicks her tail and rubs her face up the wall as Rocky continues.

I've got to confess I've got no idea what they're going on about, nor can I figure out why she doesn't just jump down off the shelf and talk to him at eye level. But hey, I'm not going to interrupt.

I also can't figure out all the mewly-mewly. Why don't they just say what they want to say instead of beating around with a brush? And why on earth doesn't the girl want to be a catlet any more?

Beethoven's probably lucky he can't hear this; it's pretty yawny stuff. I glance across to his pen and see him with his ear to the ground.