Sat. May 21st, 2022



Richard Bloss is the CEO of the ProfoMedia Press Agency.

With three other books to his name, including the Russian Tourist guide to London, published by Russian MindMagazine – “About A Cat” is the sequel to the already popular “About A Dog”, published by Austin Macauley and available in Waterstones and other good bookshops globally.

Ben Bloss is a Graduate of Stafford University, majoring in Comic Book design. He runs his own Art Studio processing Comics for corporate communication.

It was going to be a pig of a day.

There was nothing Boh could do about it, and he knew that give it an hour or so, the Master would get up – or somebody would get up – and he would get a cuddle, get a stroke or two. Play the part of being obedient cat – and get his breakfast. Always worked. if truth be told, Boh actually liked staying in overnight. True there were nights when he stayed out, and he did have his own extra bed outside, and he could wail his head off at silly o’clock and sooner or later somebody would get up open a door and let him in. But that only worked in the fresh summer months.

Today was Autumn. There was a chill in the air and a threat of rain. No – he did the right thing by stopping in last night.

There was a sound upstairs of someone in the bathroom and the pad and clump of footsteps on the carpet into the kitchen area. Boh recognised the sounds and regrouped. Ok, this is feeding time. There was a sound of taps and water in the kitchen and some noises that Boh worked out came from the dishwasher. He didn’t know why humans had dishwashers. Why not just lick the dishes dry in the first place. He always did.

Boh jumped down and neatly avoided the dog who was comatose below. Barney the dog made no sigh of recognition. Perhaps that was the one saving grace in the whole minutiae of getting up in the morning. Barney the Dog was not a morning dog. Boh waited expectantly at the door to the kitchen.

As if on demand – there was a lock being turned, and the door swung open. Good. It was the Master. Time for the performance.
“”Morning guys!” The voice was friendly enough.
“Miaow!” Boh tried his best to sound enthusiastic. Better make conversation.
“Miaow Miaow miaoooow”. It was one of life’s mysteries that nobody in the household spoke cat. He did his best trying to speak human, but fair’s fair after all. At least you would have thought they could make an effort. Then again. He knew the household were not going to scratch him, they did not have claws.

Boh decided to make more of an effort, and volunteered more information about the state of the weather, as the Master selected a pouch of cat food – tore open the sachet, and emptied the contents int Bob’s food dish. The food dish had been washed and cleaned. Perhaps dishwashers were a good idea after all. Boh jumped up to the food bowl, nudged the Master’s hands in a gesture or genuine affection – started purring uncontrollably – and set to work having breakfast. It was fish and something that Boh couldn’t pronounce. It wasn’t bad.

Barney the dog was by this time aware of things happening around him. He could see his own food bowl being filled with a rather more substantial amount of beef something or other. He remember the time he had gone upstairs to say hi to everyone in their respective bedrooms, only to come down and found that the blasted cat had eaten all of his own breakfast.

No – there are some lessons that are forever learnt. Barney growled and tried to look menacing.

It was loud. Boh the cat measured the distance between his own food area up high – and Barney protecting his breakfast below. He made swift leap in an instance, landed beyond the dog, and raced into the kitchen.

Ok, that’s that little episode done for the day. Boh sat down some distance now away from the sleeping and food area – and examined his paws. He began to wash himself. It was time for a moment or two of reflection.

The Master by this time had decided to pick up Boh, put him on his shoulder, and carry him upstairs. Boh knew about this. He quite liked the cameraderie of the Family, he knew where all the bedrooms were, he especially liked his “quite time” with Ben the young son and yep, as long as it wasn’t too close to everyone in bed – he could tolerate jumping up on the family bed to say hi. What irked him still though was; why was the dog always on the family bed first. Why did everyone prefer to stroke the dog’s tummy rather than him. And why was it always him that had to wake everyone up in the morning for breakfast.

The whole business of reaching out to people was just so unfair and misunderstood. Why did nobody just get that, by his very presence within pretty much touching distance – this was a sign of great tolerance. If he wasn’t happy about it, he would just swipe a claw in someone’s face. And when did that last happen? At least a month ago for God’s sake. No, Boh was doing his best.

But even on Boh’s unhappier days, even he could see that life had moved on. Sure it had been a journey, been a while, but looking back over those fateful few early days four years ago – when Dog had arrived unannounced – it had taken some serious counselling to get to the point where everybody tolerated everyone else.

And Barney the dog was not so bad – let’s give him credit where it is due. His happy demeanour had taught Boh how to get along with people. And he was fun. There were moments where it was just nice to sit together and sort of talk, just chill out by the fire. things that guys do. Go chasing around in the garden, hassle the squirrels.
Boh smiled. He returned to the kitchen jumped up on one of the counters, tucked his paws and tail into his body, and settled down.

He looked content. The rest of the Family were now coming down for breakfast.

Yep, Boh thought to himself, It had been a while.

Copyright Richard Bloss and Ben Bloss 2019.

The right of Richard Bloss to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author in writing.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

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