Mate, you wont believe what happened with our cat last week. So, our cat, Charlie, started sleeping with my wife, Emily, every night pressed right up against her back, kicking me away with all four paws. Honestly, he acted like he owned the bed. In the morning, hed give me this smug, cheeky look, as if to say, Youre nothing compared to me. Id grumble and fuss about it, but really, there was nothing I could do. Emily kept laughing, calling him her darling and her sunshine, and to be frank, I wasnt seeing the funny side.
Every morning, Charlie got the royal treatment: Emily would fry up some lovely cod for him, painstakingly picking out all the bones and stacking the crispy skin into a neat little mound next to the juicy bits on his plate. Meanwhile, Charlie would give me that crooked grin almost daring me to protest. The best parts of the fish went to him, and I was left with whatever he didnt fancy. He was winding me up, honestly. Id quietly nudge him away from the fish plate or shoo him off the sofa as my comeback it was a sort of low-key war between us.
Sometimes, hed leave little surprises in my slippers and boots, and Emily would just laugh, saying, Serves you right for teasing him! while stroking her sunshine. Charlie would stare at me like he was looking down from some feline throne, and Id sigh, thinking, Well, shes my only wife, so what can I do? I just had to put up with it.
But this particular morning was something else. As I was getting ready to head out for work, suddenly I heard Emily screaming from the hallway. I rushed out and saw Charlie all six kilograms of him, fur sticking out in every direction, claws and attitude flying launching himself at Emily like a bull charging a red flag. Spotting me, he jumped straight onto my chest, sending me crashing to the floor. I grabbed a chair as a makeshift shield, yanked Emilys hand, and we darted into the bedroom. Charlie leapt, bashed his paw against the chair leg, and let out a scream so loud it gave me chills. But that didnt stop him; he kept lunging at us until we managed to slam the bedroom door shut.
Inside, we heard him hissing on the other side and started treating our scratches with rubbing alcohol and iodine from the medicine cabinet. Standing there, Emily called work and explained, Our cat went mad and scratched us well have to go to A&E instead of work today. I called my boss and repeated the whole thing, word for word.
Then, out of nowhere, the house shook like the ground itself let out a sigh. The kitchen windows shattered, the bathroom window cracked, and I dropped my phone in shock. There was this weird silence before we dashed from the bedroom, headed for the kitchen, and looked outside.
Right outside our house, there was this massive crater, surrounded by bits of a car. It turned out it was our neighbours little lorry, running on gas cylinders, and it must have exploded. Cars were scattered all over the car park, some flipped over like helpless tortoises, wheels spinning in the air. In the distance, police and ambulance sirens wailed.
Still in shock, Emily and I turned to look at Charlie. He was sitting quietly in the corner, cradling his broken right front paw, whimpering softly. Emily cried out, scooped him into her arms, and held him close. I grabbed the car keys and we rushed downstairs, skipping the lift, bounding down seven flights without saying a word.
Honestly, I feel for everyone affected by the explosion, but right then, we had our own little wounded soul to worry about.
Luckily, our car was parked out back. We raced to our familiar vet, me feeling absolutely gutted and I swear, Mikael Tariverdievs Two In The Cafe was playing on the radio, just to rub salt in the wound.
An hour later, Emily came out carrying Charlie like a precious trophy, and he started showing off his bandaged paw to everyone in the waiting room. When they heard what happened, people rushed over to stroke him.
Back at home, Emily cooked Charlie his favourite cod, carefully picking out the bones and stacking the crispy skin into a tidy little pile. She gave me the leftovers. Charlie, limping on three legs, hobbled over to his plate, grimacing with pain. He tried to give me his classic disdainful look, but the pain won out.
I was in a rush that day, but once I finished everything, I went over to Charlies dish and slid him my own piece of fish de-boned and all.
Charlie looked at me in stunned silence, clutching his injured paw to his chest, and let out a questioning meow.
I picked him up, brought him close to my face, and said, Maybe I am a loser. But if Ive got a wife like Emily and a cat like you, Im the luckiest loser in the world. Then I gave him a kiss on the nose.
Charlie purred quietly, nudging me in the cheek with his big head. I set him on the floor, and he, wincing in pain, started nibbling his fish as Emily and I stood there, arms around each other, smiling.
From that day on, Charlie only slept with me. He gazed into my face, and every night Id pray to God for just one thing: to give me as many years as possible to see Charlie and Emily by my side.
Thats all I need, honestly.
I mean it.
Because thats what real happiness is.
