Bank Holiday Monday, 6:01am
Readers this morning I was violently dragged from sleep by the first Chiltern Railways train of the day.
At 6:01am!!
Apparently because it’s a Bank Holiday, the railway has collectively decided breakfast can wait too.
An extra hour unconscious.
An extra hour unfed.
An extra hour for my body to quietly begin shutting down non essential services.
By the time that train finally rattled past, I was one missed meal away from becoming a cautionary tale 😾
Outside, the weather had returned to traditional British form.
Drizzll
Grey sky
Everything damp for absolutely no reason
Honestly, the whole morning looked drearier than Willow’s personality!
I gathered what remained of my strength and headed upstairs to find somebody accountable.
The bedroom was silent, Mum and Dad were asleep.
Willow was curled up at the foot of the bed like a furry comma at the end of a very disappointing sentence.
She opened one eye as I entered.
“MROW”
Nothing!
I tried again “MROW”
Willow slowly closed her eye.
Readers she’s supportive as ever!
I jumped onto the bed and sat between Mum and Dad.
For once, I was calm no headbutts no stomping, no immediate crimes.
Just sitting there quietly with the unmistakable energy of a complaint that had reached management.
Dad opened one eye, “Morning, Chunk”
Morning? Bit casual!
I’ve been delayed by national infrastructure.
I gave him a deeply wounded “Mrrrow”
He closed his eye again.
I could not believe what I was witnessing.
So I moved closer Dad’s arm was lying across the duvet.
I placed one paw on it.
Then another and slowly lowered my entire body across his forearm.
Not sitting
Not lying
Just draped over it like a wet scarf somebody had abandoned at a bus stop.
Dad tried to move his arm.
I moved with it
He lifted it slightly
I remained attached!
“Felix”
I purred
“Mate, I need that arm”
Do you? Interesting
Because from where I’m sitting, it hasn’t opened a food pouch all morning 😾
Mum started laughing into her pillow.
Dad tried sliding his arm out from underneath me.
I simply became longer and somehow heavier!
There is a surprising amount of cat available when I commit to inconvenience.
Eventually Dad escaped so I moved to Mum.
I stepped carefully across the duvet, reached her pillow and lowered my face towards hers.
She opened one eye and there I was, six inches away.
Yellow eyes
Cold wet nose
Expression of a man who had been failed by both family and public transport.
Mum sighed, “Felix”
“MROW”
“I know Fi”
Do you? Because nobody has produced paperwork.
Then, from the foot of the bed, “Mh”
Oh, brilliant Willow had entered the discussion.
I looked down she was still curled up hadn’t even lifted her head.
Just contributing remotely.
“MROW”
“Mh”
We were now holding a full morning conference and only one of us was qualified to speak properly.
Willow finally stood, stretched, then marched up the bed.
She passed me without incident.
Suspicious!!!
Then sat directly beside Dad and rubbed her face against his hand and Dad immediately started fussing her.
“Aww, morning Wills”
There it is the act!
One minute she’s a silent little gargoyle at the end of the bed.
Next minute she’s applying for Employee of the Month 😾
I stepped closer and Willow looked at me.
I looked at Willow.
Mum saw the atmosphere changing, “No”
Nobody had done anything!
Yet!
Mum sat up and pointed towards the door.
“I’m feeding you both before this turns stupid”
Excellent finally, leadership!
We followed her downstairs while the rain tapped miserably against the windows.
Willow trotted beside Mum looking sweet and innocent.
I followed behind, emotionally exhausted from carrying the morning.
Part 2
The moment Mum’s slippers touched the kitchen floor, the real negotiation began.
Willow immediately deployed her signature technique: standing right next to the food cupboard, looking small, fragile, and utterly neglected, as if she hadn’t seen a meal since the turn of the century.
I, on the other hand, maintained my post right behind Mum’s ankles. If she tried to backtrack on her promise, she was going to trip over sixteen pounds of tuxedo velvet. Safety hazard? Perhaps. Effective union strategy? Absolutely.
Mum grabbed two bowls and reached for the pouches. The sound of tearing foil echoed through the kitchen—a sound more glorious than any choir, a sound that instantly restored my faith in humanity and public transportation alike.
“Here you go, drama queens,” Mum said, placing the bowls on the mat.
Willow didn’t even wait for the bowl to hit the rubber before diving in. I took a more refined approach, sniffing my portion thoroughly to ensure no corporate cost-cutting had taken place during the Bank Holiday delay.
Salmon in gravy. Acceptable.
As I savored my hard-earned breakfast, Dad wandered into the kitchen, looking thoroughly disheveled with hair pointing in three different directions.
“Did the union win?” he asked, rubbing his eyes and leaning against the counter.
“The union achieved total victory,” Mum replied, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Felix was two seconds away from calling the local council.”
I paused mid-bite, looked up at Dad, and let out a soft, satisfied purr. The train had been late, the weather was appalling, and Willow had played her usual brown-nosing games, but standards had been successfully maintained.
With a full stomach, I trotted back upstairs, hopped onto the center of the freshly made bed, and curled into a perfect circle. My work for the morning was done.
It was time for my post-breakfast Bank Holiday nap 😼
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