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Ollie's conviction that he was irresistible reached alarming proportions. Now that he had wormed his way into the house his love knew no bounds. When I sat down he sat on my knee. When I stood up and tried to dislodge him he simply sprang onto my shoulder and hung on, using every well-honed claw.
"I do hope my cat isn't being a nuisance," Ollie's owner queried, looking anxious.
"Not at all," I lied.
Ollie tried togetherness by attempting to sleep near Rummy. Rummy wasn't impressed. He was old and sufering kidney problems. He growled and clipped Ollie's ears at every opportunity.
One early evening I heard a frightful rumpus from the ducks on the creek across the road. Ollie had brought home a fully grown duck and was having a lovely time chasing it around the back-yard. The duck was twice his size. Every lunge from Ollie brought forth a fresh frenzy of quacking which in turn triggered off the chorus from the duck crowd at the creek. The duck's wing was slightly damaged and it couldn't quite get off the ground to fly away.
I lunged at the duck with rescue in mind and fell flat on my face - I lay there winded while Ollie licked my nose and smirked. More frenzied quacking and megaphone yowls of delight from Ollie. I lunged after that duck for almost an hour as dusk turned to night. Finally I managed to grab excited Ollie and locked him in the house. I was bruised, grazed, scratched from the roses and mad!! With the help of reinforcements (my husband John) the duck was cornered, caught and carted back to the creek. I looked as if I had been dragged backwards through a gorse bush. Ollie was calm, proud of his duck catching skills and oozing love. But he was yet to commit his most heinous crime.
Editor's note:
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