Marmalade’s Ninth Life


“Hello Marmalade,” greeted Obby. Of course he woke her up. He couldn’t go past quietly. She doubted if he could do anything quietly.

If she had been awake and seen him coming she would have made a quick getaway, but no she had dozed off. That’s the problem about getting older,one is inclined to have cat naps.

“Have you seen Mr Wilson’s new sports car?” he asked.

She didn’t answer, she wasn’t interested.

“Mr Wilson is going to give me a ride. Do you want me to ask if you can come too?”

Horror of all horrors,  she couldn’t think of anything worse!  She turned her back on him so he couldn’t see her horrified expression.

“Come on Marmalade,  don’t be like that,”he said, “You don’t do much except sit on the wall, and it’s very rude  to turn your back when someone is talking to you.”

She wished he would just go away.

“Good morning Mr Wilson, she heard Obby say, “ Do you mind if I bring Marmalade for a ride too?”

‘Please say NO, please say NO, please say NO,’  Marmalade muttered to herself.

“Bring the puddy cat,” she heard Mr Wilson say, and before she could jump off the wall and run for cover she felt two little sticky hands pick her up and put her in the car.The nightmare had started.

They took off like bank robbers with Obby yelping with delight, and Mr Wilson’s smiling like a BIG FAT PUDDY CAT! What a nerve he had calling her that.  She didn’t like familiarity.

They rode along the seafront, of course they did. It’s what people do with fast fancy cars and of course with the roof down.

“Look what you look like,” Obby said to her, “ It looks like you’ve been caught in a wind tunnel,” he laughed as he tried to smooth her fur flat.   The audacity of it she thought, she wished he could see what he looked like, not to mention Mr Wilson’s hair that looked like it was waving at everyone.

As the yellow sports car speed along , she closed her eyes, she was convinced she was going to die, after all she hadn’t any lives left!

‘How does one prepare for death,’ she asked herself, trying to take her mind off the speeding car. ‘Maybe this is my karma. I shouldn’t have been so horrible about Mr Wilson and his ridiculous car. Maybe I should have been nicer to Obby too.  Her mind was racing.

‘I promise  if I live I will nicer and more friendly, and more loyal too. I won’t think about emigrating across the road to that lovely glass house with a sea view and where the owners feed their cat salmon everyday, I will just settle for my tin of sardines. Please let me live. Please let me live.’ she pleaded.

Finally, they pulled into Mr Wilson’s Drive, and before the car had even stopped she jumped out the car and sprinted home. That was the worst day of all her lives!

“Where have you been?”asked her owner? “ I suppose you’ve been out enjoying yourself.” She eyed out the tin of sardines in her hand.

’If only you knew,’ thought Marmalade, ‘ That I’ve been staring death in the face today, all because of that horrible little hobbit boy and Mr Wilson’s stupid yellow car.’

She caught herself thinking her horrible thoughts again after she had made a pact to be nicer. ‘But after the day I’ve had, how could anyone except me to be nice!’

The End.