I finally had an
excuse to not wear any trousers in public today when my cat fell asleep on them.
It’s good to have
an alibi for once. This is the exception that proves the rule. While I’ve wandered
the streets of my hometown bottomless countless times with no adequate reason,
today it’s through no fault of my own. This is my story and I’ll stick to it,
however much the prosecution tries to slander my name. They can look at the evidence above and weep.
The cat / trouser situation came to pass within minutes of me taking my jeans out of the tumble
dryer. My cat, like all felines, is opportunistic. She doesn’t hang about. No
sooner had I folded them up and placed them on the table so I could
return to the kitchen to close the dryer door, than she leapt in to action. I
turned around to find her already curled into a circle as if she’d been there
all along. Half time score: Cat 1, David Nil.
She remained
there, fast asleep, until I got out of the bath, which just so happens to be when
she usually receives a treat (she has me well-trained). I saw this as my
opportunity to nab my jeans back, though being the softy I am, I put another
pair of folded-up trousers in their place. The final score was a
one-all draw, though I’m sure she still saw it as her victory.