Wednesday February 2, 2005
“I shall do the new sink today,” Graham said.
“Dolly won’t like that.”
“Well, into every life a little rain must fall.”
“True. But I bet she’ll find a way of making sure it’s us’ll get wet.”
Now, Dolly’s feeding station is in the corner of the kitchen, just to the right of the cupboards housing the sink, so I thought it’d be as well to feed her before the work started. She watched with little interest but major contempt. Generally, she’s no problem at all. She yowls at some point early in the day, I put down fresh food, and that’s it until the next day, barring accidents. I’d hate to convey the impression that she’s a creature of habit because that’d be a beastly libel. It’s more that she likes things her way, when she wants them, without hesitation or deviation. Any repetition is purely coincidental.
So when I stood aside, hoping she’d bundle up and tuck in, I wasn’t really too confident. Which was just as well, for she humped herself up, glared, gave out a frightful howl, and stomped off into the living room, as far away as she can get from food, daily chatter, and the dismantling of kitchen sinks.
“First strike to Dolly, I think.”
“Did you really expect anything else?” Graham said.
“Nope. But I live in hope. Here, I’ll shift her food bowls into the hall and then you can have uninterrupted access.”
Which is what I did, and what he did. Bits of sink unit, plumbing and drainage started to move slowly out from the centre of operations and it wasn’t long before the whole kitchen became a zone of limited comfort. And welcome.
Dolly came along the hallway after a while. Curiosity had got the better of her. Curiosity is about all that ever does get the better of her.
She sniffed at her food and water bowls with continued contempt, sat in the doorway, and yowled.
“What the * does that *-ing cat want now?”, Graham asked, pulling his head out from under the sink.
“Retribution, revenge and the resumption of normality, I suspect.”
“Don’t we all.”
He disappeared once more into the mysterious space where all the plumbing lives, Dolly gave another yowl, and disappeared in the direction of the living room, stopping off at her litter-tray on the way to express her disapproval in a less than lady-like way.
And so it went on right through the morning, through lunch and on into what I’d normally claim as my nap time. It was not an easy job. Dolly did her best to make it plain that her gruntle was severely diss-ed. I did my best to keep out of the way but to be on call whenever beverage service was needed.
It was a little after four in the afternoon when the job was finished, a cleaning sponge and soft cloth was pressed into service to clean up and reveal the gleaming new sink, Dolly’s food bowls were returned to their normal corner, and Graham stood back, waiting for appreciation.
“Oh, wow,” I said. “That really does look splendid.”
“Yowl!” said Dolly, from her inspection point in the doorway.
“Yes, missus,” Graham said. “Make the most of it. I’m going to do the new cooker tomorrow.”
|Bits of sink unit, plumbing and drainage started
to move slowly out from the centre of operations