Cooper swinging from my window blinds was not what I expected of  a house guest. I really didn’t want to have him. I don’t like them. But my grandkids can turn me round their little fingers. They just stood there, little angels, regarding me with tear-filled eyes and doleful expressions. Imploring, beseeching, asking. How do they do that? I thought I was the actor in the family! I gave in! and the funny thing was the tears disappeared, the faces brightened instantly which gave way to whoops,  cheers and running round the living room. Go Figure! The parents of course wore silly, wide smiles, vaguely putting me in mind of the Chesire Cat! Salou, here we come, they yelled! For a whole week! I was given various instructions about his welfare, handed a large quantity of food, feline toilet facilities (litter tray), plastic bags, toys etc., I thought I was going to have to move out to make room for it all. Right Cooper the Cat, it’s you and me now!

I returned from an evening out, remembering just in time, the explicit instructions I was given.DO NOT LET THE CAT OUT!! So stealthily I slipped my key into the lock, slowly and silently turned it, pushed the door open about a quarter inch and listened. No scrabbling! No mewling! Another quarter inch, nothing. Boldly I threw the door open, jumped in and ran up the flat stairs. I was greeted by a tiny grey and white face fearfully peering at me round the bannisters. Aw!! my heart melted. So small and dependent on me. I scooped him up and brought him into the living room. Mistake! Big mistake! My fault entirely. I had been warned.

“Nanny, he takes a crazy fit every night before going to sleep.”

“Oh, and what would that be, pray tell!”

“Hmmm! You’ll find out.”

And on that note they left.

And I did. Find out, that is.

Mr Cooper sprang from chair to chair, scraping as he travelled, over the top, across the arms, underneath, wherever he could squeeze in. Jumped on the windowsill and stilled for a moment, looking out, surveying his Catdom! Where he would inspect in more detail when permitted freedom. Not here! A different place! My son’s place! No, not here! I eventually had to cover all my chairs in whatever I could find. Towels, sheets, curtains! and still he managed to cast them aside and continue his energetic acrobatics! I couldn’t cover myself though. Oh no!! He wanted to play, he certainly got your attention. Friendly nips on any exposed part of your anatomy. But they still hurt! Like a mini cat vampire he pounced. If I was engrossed in composing a piece of writing on my laptop Cooper was indignant. I wasn’t paying attention to him, you see. Crime of the Century! He would jump up beside me, stare as if to say “Are you going to put that thing away and scratch my belly?”

If I chose to ignore the implied threat, he would climb on the keyboard and sit. My thoughts and feelings that I had poured from my heart onto the screen would be lost. Your own fault, he seemed to say. You should have saved it. Now play with me! My answer to that was to bodily lift him, dump him on the carpet uttering a few choice words and attempt to retrieve my story. He didn’t seem to take the hint. Time after time, my mind full of words to be written, he would appear. Like Cat from a Hat. I learned my lesson. Saved every word ,which was a little time consuming but necessary, until I discovered WATER!

Now, I know water has been around for a long time and I certainly didn’t invent it but I sure used it well. I discovered that Cooper did not like it especially when it was sprayed on him. He fled! Hallejulah! Peace to eat, to write, to just sit quietly without the vision of this energetic feline flinging himself from pillar to post. And it was just in time this solution manifested itself. I walked into my living room one evening to see Cooper attempting to shake hands with Elvis! My heart raced, I felt faint! Not the real Elvis, you understand. My precious statue of the King. I own a bookcase full of Elvis memorabilia right beside the statue and I hesitated to spray water at him. I could imagine, horror of horrors, the little imp jumping on the rest of my heart’s collection. So I reasoned with him, reasoned with a cat!

” C’mon now, Cooper, you don’t want to be doing that because that would make me very sad and very, very angry. You don’t want to see me when I’m very, very angry.” Then I lost all control!

“Get away from him or as sure as fate you will suffer.”

No reaction! He just stared at this madwoman.

I was frozen in my chair, expecting any minute for my statue to topple. I couldn’t rush him. The same result could happen. I waited. Then brainwave. Cooper likes yoghurt. It worked. He calmly stepped away from my man and fell on the carton.

Oh, holidaymakers please come back!

On the very day they were due to return home, my furry house guest got behind the television, in among all the wiring, nipping and biting the bits. Dear Jesus, he was going to go up in a puff of smoke and I would be labelled a cat criminal, a pet punisher, the NSPCA would be called. I would be incarcerated, bread and water for life. Calm down, woman!! I couldn’t spray him, you see. Liquid on electric, not good.

He was so cozy, sitting there among the snake-like lengths of communication but then my front door opened and the bubbly voices of my grandchildren could be heard.

Not “Nanny, we’re home!” Noooo! “Cooper, we’re home! Coopy where are you?”

“Getting electrocuted,” I shouted.

Running footsteps, sighs of relief as the animal in question deserted the wiring and ran to his owners, probably whispering how badly he was treated, because I could see the girls eyeing me suspiciously.

I had thought about getting a dog but was advised of the expense. It was suggested I get a cat as they were easier to look after. You can imagine my response and it is not printable!!