Sunday, 11 September 2016

Meeting the Boss.

So Frank was finally home and it was time to meet the family and by family I mean 'Bill'. Bill is the ruler of the house. He's a three year old tom with a heart condition and a penchant for fifteen year old single malts.
Introducing the two was a tense affair as Bill is a tyrannical ruthless killer with a canyon wide mean streak and appetite for mindless violence. Other cats are scared of him, dogs are scared of him and most humans will give him a wide birth and completely avoid eye contact. For many, the last thing they see is his glistening razor sharp teeth dripping with the blood of his previous victim as this veracious savage monster closes in for the kill. Just look at the ginger apocalypse!

When he's not being a homicidal lunatic of course, Bill will mostly be found sleeping, stuffing his face with Dreamies or rolling over to have his tummy rubbed because he's actually a big fluffy lardass. Continents shift quicker than Bill. I'm convinced he's actually a tortoise with fur and whiskers. The only time he moves quicker than an asthmatic snail is to see what's on your plate. Then, he's your best mate.

Before Frank could be introduced he needed to be scrubbed up, so a bath was improvised in the sink to remove any unwanted passengers and dirt. 

He tarted up a treat and so followed a week long session of gradual introductions and getting to know each other.

Bill wasn't best pleased at the prospect of sharing. As Bill got used to the idea that 'squeaky' wasn't going anywhere and he wasn't a threat, he started to relax and it wasn't long before he was back on his rocking chair with a Glenfiddich in his paws and a Golden Virgina packed half bent taper hanging out of his chops. 
Over the coming weeks Bill assumed the father mantle and showed the ropes to a naive Frank. He's showed Frank where to eat, where to pooh and taught him how to pur in the humans faces at daft o'clock in the morning, the essentials really. Frank's full dickhead potential would have to wait until he had mastered charging the stairs at full clack. He would also need to harness the wind up his arse for maximum imbecility.
He would get there.

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