Saturday, June 28, 2008

Curiosity and the Cat

Curiosity killed the cat
imagine that
it killed the cat


Once upon a time, there was a young family living in a tiny house at the edge of the forest. This house was tiny indeed. Much too small for the mother, the father and their three small children. Woe is me the mother cried, we cannot stay in this shoebox. There is no room in the kitchen, no room in the den, and for the children no room at all. They are growing and need more room, soon we will be so crowded we will be forced to sleep on the roof! We must have a larger dwelling or I don't know what I shall do.

The husband was not deaf to his wife's pleas, nor to their plight. He agreed to peruse the notices nailed to a tree on the village green (or perhaps on the bulletin board at the post office) and see whether a more fitting home could be found.

After searching high and low he determined that there was a dwelling to be let at the far end of the village. Curious to see whether the answer to their pleas had been found, the father bundled the mother and all three of their young children into their wagon and set out over hill and dale to see the dwelling that would perhaps become their new home. After an arduous journey they reached the home and found its owner, a woman heavy with child. Yes she told them, the house is for rent, and yes, the babe is to be born this very fortnight.

The family entered into the house, looking at rooms, poking in cupboards, turning on taps. The father and the mother exchanged significant glances before asking their leave to return to their own tiny home to consider their future.

They loaded the three children back into the wagon. They loaded themselves back into the wagon. The father began to back out of the drive and then a mighty thump was heard - DISASTER!

The father, in his retreat, had driven his wagon directly over the (heavily pregnant, remember) mistress of the house's beloved cat, who had sought his rest under the vehicle and being, they later found out, deaf as a post, had not heard the sound of the engine starting and consequently had not abandoned his place of refuge.

Upon disembarking from the wagon they found that the cat was indeed, dead. Killed by their curiosity.

(Note from Robin: this is in fact a true story but one which thank goodness did not happen to me. The mother in the story gave thanks upon its telling for one small thing - that it had been her husband, and not she, who was driving. At the time it was told to me she was still waiting to see whether the incident would send the woman into labor.)

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7 comments:

rebecca said...

well, i was certainly entertained the way you wrote it....but, jeez, a true story? poor cat....

keithsramblings said...

I loved the way you told that story, but I must admit to an unintended and wholly inapproptiate giggle at one stage!

Robin said...

Come on Keith, don't leave us hanging - you must tell us where it was!

Greyscale Territory said...

A story with a difference! Interesting write!

anthonynorth said...

Thoroughly enjoyed that. And I might have giggled at the same place as Keith.
Where?
Not telling ;-)

angie said...

Oh, poor, poor cat.

Just Jen said...

poor kitty!
we had a deaf cat and we use to call it by flashing the lights or banging on the floor for the vibration. one day it got out of the house and went straight for a train-bright light, vibration of tracks-it was an awful mess and the poor boys had nightmares after that one :(
curiousity