Earlier today, Nelson made a bid for freedom and escaped out the front door, down the entrance hall and into the garage. The garage door was open but instead of going for the great outdoors he chose to hide under Marta’s car like a big scaredy-cat wimp. When I eventually got him back into the house we had a little chat about life and garages and things and he told me that he’s starting to feel a little boxed in being stuck in the house the whole time.
“You think this is boxed in?” I exclaimed, “You’ve got the run of the place, you even have more of it to play with than we do because we can’t hide under the kitchen units or climb up the side of the larder shelving or sleep in the bidet or anything like that!”. He saw my point but nevertheless remained a little distant and moody.
I went to Makro to top up on various things including Zosia’s current favourite breakfast cereal and when I’d unpacked everything I had an idea.
“Nelsonic, my old chum. Chodz!”
“What now, oh wobbly one! Can’t you see I was busy checking how big my gonads are getting lately?”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a real macho cat these days. Anyway, thinking about your boxed in issue, why not jump in here and you can see what it really feels like. Good idea eh?”
Nelson was so impressed with the idea that he made that cat noise equivalent of “Eat my shorts!” and ran away. I eventually cornered him in the bathroom and carried him back promising a fresh pack of Whiskas Junior if he sits in the box for 30 seconds. He agreed.
I’m not sure he really got the point of the exercise.