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Being allowed in the house was heaven to Ollie. He became the star of every show. Visitors were expected to put up with him on their knees and to become members of his admiration society. He especially enjoyed visitors who hated cats. People like this represented a sort of cat Everest to Ollie - they had to be conquered. He positively smirked as they wheezed and coughed and talked darkly about their allergies. He yawned when others said how dirty cats were and that they carried ringworm.
John's sister Audrey loathed all felines. She was on a visit and blanched when she saw Ollie.
"Oh, God," she screeched "you've got another cat!"
"He belongs to the neighbours," I soothed, "he's very good-natured."
Audrey looked unconvinced but she sat down on the sofa gingerly. Ollie was to sit down too. He rushed at Audrey and landed on her lap. He managed one lick of her chin before the screams began.
"Ohhhh, eeeeeeeek, get him off."
Ollie jumped down himself, looking thoughtful. It was obvious he regarded this human as quite a challenge. Before the screaming had finished he tried again. With a bound he landed on her shoulder and draped himself around her neck. This time the screams reached frenzy level.
"He's attacking me, help, helpppppp."
I removed Ollie but the damage was done - that year Audrey's stay was short.
Another visitor made an observation. "That grey cat, did you know he just sprayed your curtain?."
Horrors. A heinous crime had just been committed. If Ollie was a sprayer and marker of territory he was every householder's worst nightmare.
Editor's note:
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