My birthday was a few days ago. Sad day.. You can’t survive without alcohol. So, I decided to go out with a couple of friends to celebrate – or to forget the fact that I’m growing old. Yes, 23 is old. I’m old enough for MySpace for one thing. I was 18 when I joined it… I know! It’s pathetic, I still have an account… Anyway! My subject was the £300 cat, not my old age.
On my way home and after having spend almost €100 (around £86) on drinks, I saw IT! The paper that was about to change my life – did I get your attention? Great… A short notice was posted on a tree. It read:
“My beloved Siamese cat is missing. It was lost in [name of the place].
£300
15 something street, Athens”
That was exciting! I had time to kill, so I decided to search for the little cat. Siamese cats are pretty rare. I guess it would be easy to find it. I was right. It took me only 8 hours…
(7:45 hours later)
There he/she was! Standing in the middle of a park, looking at my direction. The idiot had forgotten to mention the cat’s name… How was I supposed to call… he or she.. I’ll call it IT from now on. I still don’t know what its sex was. I don’t care. Do you? They’re all the same, right? Stupid animals…
“Cat!” I cried
The animal stood still. Didn’t bother to reply. No manners for a grown up cat. “Shame” I thought.
“Kittie?” I said hoping that it’d work.
Nothing happened. The cat ignored me once more. I tried calling it all the usual cat names with no luck.
“£300 cat, come here!” I said and moved slowly closer to the lost animal. To my surprise the cat started coming my way, meowing. I grabbed it and threw it in my car’s trunk. Now, before calling PETA, let me say that it was the only way to return the animal back to its owner. I didn’t have a cage and it was too late to buy one. I saved it. It would have spent a terrible night in the park all by herself surrounding by other mysterious and potentially dangerous cat. What if it was raped? See? I did a good thing. Put the receiver down. You can send an e-mail, if you want. They never answer. Anyway!
It was 5 in the morning, but I had to get rid of the cat. I found the address written on the notice and rang the bell. The owner was awake. Perfectly normal for an old lady.
“Hello” I said carrying the cat in my hands.
“Who are you?” the old lady opened the door.
“I brought your cat…”
“£300?”
“Yes, that’d be great!”
“You brought my £300?”
“No… I brought the cat.” At this point the old lady took the cat from my hands and hugged it.
“Oh £300 I though I’d never see you again!” she exclaimed and I could see she was crying… tears of joy.
“Sorry…” I said. “What about my money?”
“Money?” She looked genuinly puzzled. “Alzheimer’s?” I thought.
“Yes, these paper things and the coins…”
“I know what money is, you lady!”
“Ehm.. Yeah… You wrote that the reward would be £300…for finding the cat”
“When did It do that?”
“On the notice on the tree about a mile away from here…”
“Oh no! £300 is the name of the cat.”
“Sorry?”
“I have no money to waste. I have needs, you know” she said and slammed the door to my face.
“Thank you“
Another night ruined by idiots… What kind of name is that? Only Scrooge McDuck would call his cat £300…