• David Huzzard

Tinki vs The Every Other Day Visit

It had been a fine morning for Tinki the British Shorthair. He had napped until the sun found him blinding his eyes. Then he curled into a tighter ball, shut his eyes against the sun's tyrannical gaze, and slept until the midday rays were blocked by the living room wall.

Tinki took this as a sign that it was time to eat. Eating was his most favorite time of the day. Tinki knew there would be food waiting for him, and this made him happy. He pranced and purred rubbing his back against the couch, walls, and eventually the kitchen cabinets and refrigerator as he made the final turn towards the laundry room and his food.

With a skeptical look Tinki crept past the washer and dryer. Slow and steady using his padded paws to make not a sound. He didn't know how or why the machines whirred to life. He only knew that they did and when they did the racket could be awful. These machines were tethered to the wall and gave Tinki little pause. Sure, if they sprang to life while he was distracted he would flee and sprint down the hallways, but soon he'd come to his senses knowing they could not chase him.

The far more frightening machine made the laundry room closet its lair. At that thought Tinki shot a worried glance to make certain that door was shut tight. Tinki had observed this dreadful machine, with its one bright eye, marching down hallways, through every room of his house, and even reaching under beds and up curtains. If it was not the devil itself then it was the closest thing Tinki had seen.

Tinki tried to set aside his thoughts but the image of the lurching, growling terror coming for him was burned in his mind. He feared one day he would not be able to escape. He would be too slow or stumble at the wrong instant. He would find his tail caught in that dreadful machine's mouth ready to be its next meal. He would grip and claw and struggle snagging his claws in the carpet but it would be no use. Eventually he would tire and be suctioned to his doom.

Now was not the time for such thoughts. This was a glorious day. Glorious as all days are when you wake only to go back to sleep and then once fully and completely rested wake to eat tasty, crunchy bits of processed chicken parts. Tinki loved his crunchies. He knew that the people he allowed live here attempted to give him other offerings but he refused them. Tinki wanted his crunchies and only his crunchies. the humans claimed he'd live longer eating raw chicken or mashed up sea slugs but Tinki showed them that he would live the longest eating what he wanted for if they attempted to feed him anything else he simply would not eat.

By first sitting back on his haunches and coiling his muscles under him Tinki was able to leap up to were his food was kept. What Tinki found was not a welcomed surprise. Tinki was expecting his bowl to be filled to the brim as it was every day. It shocked and dismayed him to find the bowl not only not filled to the brim but low enough that he could see the bottom. This was unacceptable. Tinki would evict these humans as soon as he could find them. Tinki needed fed and no cat, especially a British Shorthair of Tinki's status, should be made to suffer the indignity of having to eat the scraps that remain with the bottom of the bowl visible. Tinki would rather starve than suffer such insults.

Needing time to plot and now feeling the pangs of hunger Tinki retreated to his litter box to relieve his bowels. This was typically his after meal special and he couldn't help but feel his whole life had been disturbed. The simple indignity of it all was too much for Tinki to get over. Hadn't he expressed to the humans his refinement. Weren't they the ones that took pictures of him in his top hat and monocle? Tinki could not understand why they choose to besmirch him so.

What was this? Tinki thought as he uncovered a leftover turd in his litter. Another insult. This was too much. The humans had gone too far or perhaps they'd tired of him. He was a kind and loving cat. Had he forgotten to rub against them one evening or perhaps he hadn't lain on top of their faces enough in the morning. For whatever reason they had abandoned him. Tinki imagined them now sitting in another house giving their scritches and scratches to some other cat. Some Tabby or Ragdoll or some other lesser cat. Tinki was a British Shorthair. The breed of lords and ladies. Not a breed to be set aside and abandoned. Made to eat staring at the bottom of the bowl or poop next to yesterday's turd. This was too much. Tinki retired for the evening.

The next morning all was forgotten until the sun crept across the window and found its way into Tinki's eyes. He awoke and slowly came to the realization of where he was and what he would find once he rose to venture to his food bowl. It would still be too close to empty with the bottom visible and only scraps remaining. What had Tinki down to suffer so. Then he heard the rumblings from his stomach and the ache in his side. He had not used the litter box yesterday either. How could he? He had his dignity left and would not squat next to yesterday's turd. The lack of food was one thing but this torture was another entirely. When he saw the humans again he would let them know they were to remove themselves permanently from Tinki's presence and send replacements forthwith.

But what was this Tinki heard. A key rattling in the lock and a door creaking open. Was this Tinki's salvation. Was someone here to see to his needs. Tinki sprinted over to the door and awaited its opening. When he saw the young human enter he was surprised. This was no one he had been introduced to. It was a stranger in his home. Could this explain the thousand insults he had been made to endure? His people had left before but they'd always sent a suitable replacement that had honored and respected the needs of Tinki the British Shorthair.

Then it came to him. The argument. One human had wanted to stick to their normal pet care plans (Tinki assumed pet meant divine being worthy of worship and adjuration) while the other had insisted on saving money. They had said Tinki was self sufficient. All he does is nap, eat, poop, and then go back to sleep. Someone coming every day was an unnecessary expense. Tinki understood now. They did not respect his lineage. To them he was more of a pest than the refined distinguished being he knew himself to be. Tinki bolted from the stranger.

Once they were gone he ventured down and found his food bowl had been refilled. Not as full as he liked it and he wasn't certain that it hadn't simply been shaken to cover the bottom. Nonetheless Tinki devoured his crunchies until once again the bottom of the bowl was visible. Afterwards he made his way to the litter box and finally relieved himself of the build up of waste.

Tinki rested a peaceful and easy slumber that day, but he knew the next would be a hard one. He would once again have no food and no clean litter. He wondered again what he had done to insult the humans to such a degree that they would shame him so. They were most likely at this very moment sitting in the Raj's palace sipping Earl Grey and laughing at his misfortune. Tinki would see about that. He knew if he was no longer wanted here there were plenty of people out there that would understand the honor a British Shorthair such as himself bestows on a household. Tinki would suffer no more. When next he heard the key turn in the lock and the door creak open he would make his mistake. He would not grant these humans the prestige of his company one second longer than he had to. This was no longer a home to him. It was a prison, and like all prisoners escape was the only path forward.

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