A. K. A. Fudgepuddle

by Fin J. Ross

  'I can't thank you enough for this,' Hamish says, rubbing himself against my flank.

  'Well, I reckon you'd have done the same for me if the circumstances had been reversed.'

  'I would indeed,' he says.

  'One thing I want to know though, is why you're so - um, shall we say - unkempt.'

  'Well, it's like this - and don't you dare laugh. I was outside one night a few months back and it was absolutely frigid, I reckon about minus twenty or so. Anyway, I was thirsty, and I could see water on the metal of my deuxjambs' shed, so I stuck my tongue out to lick it and… and it stuck. I couldn't let go. There I was, standing there, freezing to death, my fur turning into icicles, my paws like ice cubes and my tongue stuck fast to the stupid wall.'

  I tried really hard not to titter at this mental image. Hamish would be mortified if I laughed at him. 'So how long were you there like that?'

  'Until morning, I think about four or five hours. Fortunately, by then my tongue was so numb I couldn't feel it.'

  I shivered. 'Ooh, you poor thing. So what happened then?'

  'Finally, the sun came out, just enough to melt the ice so I could pull my tongue off.'

  'Errgh.' I shuddered.

  'Unfortunately, I think I left behind the brushes on my tongue, see,' he pokes his tongue out at me and it looks quite gruesomely black and completely devoid of bristles, 'which means not only can I not taste anything anymore, I also can't groom myself properly. My tongue just slides off. That explains why my fur looks so bad.'

  'But it doesn't explain how you ended up in AFAQS. Didn't your deuxjambs come for you? I remember you telling me your deuxjambs were really nice.'

  'Ah, but of course, you couldn't know that I have - er, had - new deuxjambs since we last saw each other and they didn't treat me the same as the old ones. I got picked up one night when I was just minding my own business in a rubbish bin, and brought here. The new deuxjambs never came to look for me and nobody else wanted me either; especially not when I look like this. I've been at the AFAQS for ages.'

  'Well, don't you worry. We're going to take you back with us to the Lap of Luxury, where I'm gonna spend the rest of the night getting you cleaned up. Then, I'm sure Miss Steph will look after you.'

  'I don't know what you're talking about, Juno, but it sounds mighty good to me,' my hunk of a Hamish says.

  Flanked by Big Dan and Hamish the Handsome as we make our way back, I feel so safe and secure - sort of like the Vegemice in a sandwich, except I'm not going to get eaten.

  I can't believe how happy I am.

  I grin like a Cheshire Feeli.

  From here to caternity

  'Aaah… ooh,' I yawn. The sun's about to come up by the look of it. That's something you don't see every day. It's been quite a night, so it's no surprise that I can barely keep my eyes open. And my tongue is literally aching.

  We got back here at about 3.30am and since then, I kid you not, I've been licking Hamish all over to try to get him cleaned up. I haven't had a wink of sleep.

  He tasted pretty disgusting I hate to say, and his ears were, well urgh, blah, pth pth. I still can't get that taste out of my mouth. But I'm not complaining, really I'm not. Because he was enjoying every minute of it, judging by his deafening quirrelling. I was quirrelling a bit myself, between mouthfuls of dirt and grime.

  He's still pretty matted - I mean it would take me three days to get right through his coat, but he's looking a whole lot better now than he did last night.

  He's right here beside me on the shelf, napping contentedly and probably dreaming about all the lives he still has left - thanks to moi.

  By the time we got back, it was a bit late to introduce him to everybody as we were all pretty bushed. Big Dan and Raffles just fell into bed. Well, Raffles did after he spent at least half an hour saying goodbye to Jorjie and telling her he'd look her up when he gets out of here. I'm not sure he really will, because she was really too old for him and goodness knows where she'll end up. But at least she won't be going to terminal Weeras tomorrow.

  When we got back inside, Inda was sleeping so peacefully I didn't have the heart to wake him.

  So I'm sitting here now pondering what to do about Hamish. Do I wake him up now and send him off out the door, like we planned last night, with directions to my place so he can hang around there for a couple of days until I get home?

  Do I just leave him where he is for Miss Steph to find? What will she do? Will she take him straight back to AFAQs? Will she take care of him herself? Will she kick him out the door? I just don't know.

  I wish I could stay with him forever though. I can imagine there'd be plenty of times when we could just cuddle up beside each other and sleep the day away or go out exploring and enjoy adventures together. We could even go out on the town at night occasionally, which is something I definitely don't get to do very often.

  Of course I'd love to be able to do all of that with Big Dan too, but I keep forgetting that he has his own home to go to and deuxjambs who love him. But I think I'd really enjoy licking inside his ears and all those awkward spots he can't get to himself. Hmmph. I can't believe I'm feeling so domesticated - next I'll be wanting to help Hayoo with the sucker-dragon.

  It's nice though, to have this quiet time to ponder to myself. Maybe I should think about waking up early occasionally - it's amazing how sharp the mind can be at this hour. Only drawback is, you've just got to wait longer for breakfast. So what's the point?

  Maybe I'll just close my eyes for a bit and then I'll wake Hamish up before Miss Steph's due to arrive so we can plan what we're going to do. Oh I'm full of good ideas…zzz

  I nearly jump out of my skin as I feel a definite-deuxjamb hand stroking my flank. Oh cripes, I've slept in again. Before I even open my eyes, the panic starts to set in: Hamish, what about Hamish? I didn't wake up - to wake him up. Talk about sprung!

  'Hello Miss Fudgepuddle - who's a sleepyhead?' It's Miss Steph of course. 'And hello young man; my gosh, you're as lazy as your mother.'

  I hear Inda yawn and, as I peer over the shelf - I've got the top bunk - he's stretching his legs out and splaying his toes. But where's Hamish? I mean, he was right here beside me before. Surely Miss Steph must have seen him.

  'Hamish!' I call out, trying not to sound too panicky.

  'It's all right,' Big Dan calls back, 'he's hiding'.

  'Hiding where?'

  'He's in here with me.'

  'But that's no good. She'll find him when she gets there.'

  'No, she won't.'

  'How come?'

  'Because he's an expert at feelichatra.'

  'You're kidding me. Well I never; but how - uh, where?'

  'Right at the moment, he looks exactly like the grey blanket in my cushy-house. She'll never even see him in there, he's so well catouflaged.'

  'Huh? You mean - that's the secret? Catouflage? Just blend with your surroundings?'

  'Yep,' Hamish replies in a muffled voice. 'That's it - feelichatra in a nutshell. Of course some of us find it easier than others and it's definitely an advantage being grey, or teezee, maybe. I mean, if I'm out in the garden - my deuxjambs can never find me because I just blend with the scenery. I can look like a shadow, a tree, the grass, the side of a building. It's a bit harder if I'm inside although I can disappear into the bedroom carpet sometimes.

  'You, on the other hand, would always find it difficult because - well, white and orange don't blend with so many things.'

  'I'm not orange, I'm ginger.'

  'Call it what you want - you look orange.'

  'Oh. Yuck! I hate orange - it clashes with everything!'

  Zsa Zsa suddenly pipes up. 'It also doesn't help that you're - er, so flabby. That makes it more difficult to vanish. You should look up your jes, what's her name? - when you get out of here; she's supposedly the expert at feelichatra isn't she?'

  'You mean Sizi? Yes, Zsa Zsa - I will look her up. That's another thing on my list of things to do when I get out of here. I'm sure
Inda will be able to help me with Hayoo's puterbox at home. There's all sorts of things I'd like to look up - at my leisure.

  'I'd like to look up that Scottish guy with the nose, too, to find out a bit more about my ancatsry. He might also have some ideas about how I could get to Americat for the convention. What's his name again?'

  'You mean Jock?' the Colonel asks.

  'Yeah. So how do I contact him? Has he got a weblike?'

  'Think so. It's something like www.noseabout.tom.'

  'Noseabout?'

  'Maybe it's nosearound, or nose into,' the Colonel ponders aloud. 'You know, something to do with his nose'.

  'No nose is good nose?' Choux-Fleur suggests.

  'Brown-nose maybe,' says Finny.

  'Follow your nose,' says Humbug.

  'Poke your nose into,' Maharani offers.

  'I know, I know,' Raffles buts in, 'nose to the ground; no, nose to the grindstone.'

  'Ouch,' Zsa Zsa comments, 'that would hurt'.

  'No skin off my nose,' Raffles laughs.

  'Oh, now you're just getting silly,' Zsa Zsa says.

  'Don't look down your nose at me,' Raffles retorts. 'Ha, ha, and don't stick it in the air either.'

  This whole conversation is just going around in circles. 'I'm sorry I asked,' I say, a little put out.

  'Well don't get your nose out of joint or you might need a nose job,' Big Dan laughs, then immediately apologises. 'Oh sorry, Juno, I couldn't resist. But be careful when you find him, coz you'll pay through the nose for his services, ha-ha.' He falls over laughing. 'I mean, you don't want to cut off your nose to spite your face.'

  'Oh for goodness sake, I really am sorry I asked.' I'm no better off than when I started this conversation.

  'Thenoseknows,' the Colonel suddenly blurts, 'I knew I'd remember it eventually. That's it www.thenoseknows.tom.'

  'Hmm - you'll remember that, won't you Inda?'

  'Yep, for sure,' he replies.

  Miss Steph interrupts our conversation. 'What are you chatting about there?'

  'If you only knew,' I say as I roll into a demi-ipwod.

  She scratches me under the chin, just where I like it and I endow her with a quirrel. I suppose I can't hold it against her that she destroyed my tricerapots, I mean, she's just a deuxjamb after all.

  Hayoo and Darling are much more on the ball. I'm sure they'll be impressed when I show them what I can do. Maybe they'll contact Sixty Mittens and then I'll be famous. Hey, Hayoo has all that paper in her office; just think about what I'll be able to do with that. I could decorate the whole house with origami art. Mmm, you know, as much as I'm enjoying my holiday here, I sort of wish I could hurry up and get home. There's so much stuff to get on with.

  Miss Steph pours some much-anticipated kitzbitz into our bowls and backs out of our quarters.

  'Hey Umbi,' Inda snaps me from my reverie. 'Finny thinks I have a good voice. She wants to teach me some more.'

  'Is that so, Finny?' I call out.

  'Oh yes, Fudg- Sorry, Juno. He's quite a natural. We had a great time while you were off on your rescue mission last night, didn't we everyone?'

  She's almost drowned out by a chorus of agreeable comments.

  'He'll do very well under Finny's tutelage,' the Colonel says. 'Even the best singers need extra coaching'.

  'We all think he should go on The FeeliX Factor or maybe The Miaow,' Maharani says. 'He's a better singer than anyone else here. Oh, except for Finny, that is'.

  'He sang quite a repertoire,' Zsa Zsa reports, 'from old stuff like Elton Upjohn's Honky Feeli and Poison's Look What the Feeli Dragged In to stuff from musicals like Caturday Night Fever, Ocathoma and The Sound of Caterwauling. I know all the songs from that because my umbi was in a production of it along with a few other musicals like Crease, My Fair Feeli and Umbi Mia.'

  'My favourite,' Humbug interrupts, 'was that If I Were a Rich Cat from Fiddler on a Hot Tin Roof. Inda really sang that well. Very entertaining.'

  Big Dan sniggers. 'I think you'll find that's Fiddler on the Roof, Humbug, not to be confused with the movie Feeli on a Hot Tin Roof'.

  'Oh yes, I knew that Big Dan. I was just, um-'

  'Confused?'

  'Mm.'

  I'd be doing well if I had the vaguest idea what they were all talking about. I make a mental pact with myself to learn more about this from Inda when we get home.

  Musicals have never really been my bowl of yellum, but then that's probably because I haven't paid much attention to them. I suspect there's a lot that Inda - and all my other kisskies for that matter - could teach me. Maybe I've led too sheltered a life. I'm going to make up for that. I'm going to get out there and strut my stuff. Somehow, I'm going to get to the origami qualifier, but in the meantime, I'm going to spend as much time as I can perfecting my techniques. I'll show the world how clever I am and I'll learn everything about everything. Then I won't ever be embarrassed about my shortcomings - coz I won't have any.

  I'm also going to find out more about my ancatsry and see if there's any ecsotiques hiding in there. I just know that there's got to be more to me than everyone thinks. I feel it in my bones that I'm not just a plain old ordinary wuzzer.

  And I'm going to organise a reunion - get all my precious, clever kisskies together. And, presuming that Hamish is going to be around a bit, I'm going to get him to help me perfect feelichatra. And I'm sure there's other things he could teach me. It's going to be so much fun when we get out of here coz he'll be able to visit and maybe, just maybe, Darling and Hayoo will let him stay. We've got a lot of plans to make, but I can't really talk to him now coz Miss Steph's just about to go into Big Dan's place. I can hear her talking to him.

  'Hello there, Fess, you bootiful pooty tat. You're such a honey boy aren't you?'

  I'm finding it hard to resist the urge to giggle. I can just picture Big Dan trying to look tough while Miss Steph slavers all over him.

  'Today is washing day, my boy,' Miss Steph announces.

  'Oh no, no, not the cushy bed thing - no don't touch it. Just stay put Hamish!'

  I can hear the panic in Big Dan's voice.

  'Uh-oh,' says Hamish. 'I think I'm sprung.'

  'But you're an expert at feelichatra,' I call out, trying to contain the panic in my voice.

  'She mightn't be able to see me, but she'll sure feel me when she picks- Uh-oh and oops!'

  'What on earth?' Miss Steph asks querulously. 'Big Dan what have you got in here? Oh, oh my goodness. Where on earth did you come from?'

  'Oh dear.' That's all I can think of to say.

  'I think I'm done for,' Hamish says. I can hear the anguish in his voice. 'Please, please don't take me back to the AFAQS,' he begs.

  Of course Miss Steph can't understand a word he's saying - he might as well be talking Tonkinese.

  Now what's going to happen?

  'Hamish, Hamish, don't worry. Everything will be all right. I'm sure it will.' I try to sound really positive, like I know what I'm taking about, but deep down I'm really worried. I can hear Miss Steph approaching. I look out through my wire and there she goes, heading towards the kitchen - with Hamish. She's holding him way out in front of herself by the scruff of the neck, with the other hand under his back legs, and screwing up her nose.

  'What a grotty, grotty boy you are. Where on earth did you come from?'

  'Nooo,' Hamish yarls as he passes by. 'Help Juno!' His legs are flailing helplessly and the expression on his face just turns my oogies to mush.

  'Oh gawd.'

  'What do you reckon she's gonna do with him, Juno?' Raffles asks anxiously. 'I hope we didn't go to all that trouble last night for nothing.'

  'Me too Raffles, me too. I don't know what to do.'

  'I don't know whether there's much we can do. But I think we'd better start thinking - and fast,' Raffles says. He sounds as uptight as I feel.

  The kitchen door slides shut. My Hamish is on the other side - with Miss Steph!

  What's happening? I wish I could
see. Arrg, the suspenders is killing me!

  My thoughts are suddenly interrupted by Rabbit.

  'Incoming, incoming.'

  I'm not really interested in that; I'm too busy worrying about my Hamish. What's she doing to him in there? I hear him scream - a blood-curdling yarl.

  Is she murdering him?

  No, surely not. Get a grip girl. Miss Steph wouldn't do that. She loves us - all of us.

  Maybe she's just combing him - or giving him a bath. I focus my ears on the kitchen door but I'm distracted by other noises. I hear a car door slam and now I'm hearing the front door creaking - a voice calls out.

  'Hello, hello, Stephanie, are you there? It's Emma Campbell here. We've arrived home early so I was hoping I could collect my Megsy now.'

  'Oh foop!'

  Fin J. Ross

  Fin is a journalist and creative writing tutor who runs a boarding cattery and breeds Bengal and British shorthair cats at her home on the Gippsland Lakes.

  She and her husband, Steve, also fabricate cat havens to keep other people's feelis safe and happy.

  They enjoy life with their own menagerie:

  Selby the golden retriever; and their domestic cats

  Vesper, Moo Moo and Stewie; their Bengals

  Bijou, Reini, Heathcliff, Jolie and

  Nelson; and their British shorthairs

  Miss Moneypenny, James Bond and Cupcake.

  She is also co-author, with her sister, Lindy Cameron, of the true crime anthologies: Killer in the Family and Murder in the Family (not their own families, of course).

  Acknowledgements

  Running a boarding cattery and filling my days cuddling, talking to, cleaning up after and generally spending quality time with cats makes me one the luckiest people on earth. But of course, every evening when I've tucked all the happy campers into bed and am locking the door to keep them safe, I always wonder what they get up to when I'm not there.

  Some of the things I've imagined is where the idea for A.K.A. Fudgepuddle came from.