I’m worried about my butler, Corby. I think that he may be going a little mad. Just yesterday, when I miaowed for my lunch, he was very slow in serving me, and when he did eventually bring the silver dish, the one I insist he uses to serve my food on, he was mumbling in his beard.
I only caught a few words as he placed the dish on my table, something about “that bloody woman” and “I should be running things”.
Well, when I noticed that instead of my usual Waitrose smoked salmon in jelly, he had served up something that looked like the sweepings from the bottom of the cage that Stalin, his parrot, lives in, I was concerned. It was all seed, nuts and lentils! Terrible!!
If I have to “let him go” I will have to go through the tedious process of interviewing another load of applicants for the position, and when I tell you that Corby was the best of the last lot that I interviewed you can see why I am worried.
He has started disappearing every Wednesday at around noon and when he returns home he is in a terrible mood. He slams the door when he comes in, kicks off his sandals, and pours himself a stiff shot of mangelwurzel and marigold juice, his drink of choice when he is under pressure.
I know that when he thinks that I am sleeping he sneaks off to his allotment and sits in his shed and cries, because when he returns his eyes are red and his grey shell suit top is drenched with salty water.
His friend John camme around to see him the other day and they sat in his pantry whispering about “when I win” and “Lansmann thinks that he will take my job”. John did his best to comfort him, but as he was leaving I noticed that he had a funny little smile at the corners of his mouth.
I don’t like John very much. He tried to kick me when I was sleeping under the coffee table. Oh, he pretended to Corby that it was an accident but I know that he did it deliberately. Not to worry though, he had taken off his shoes when he arrived and I availed myself of the convenience as it was raining outside at the time. He would have had a nice surprise at the “present” that I had given him. That will teach him!
Someone called Abbott keeps telephoning him at all hours. She must work in a shop or something because she is always asking him questions about money and getting him to add up numbers. He isn’t much use at it though, he gets the answers wrong more times than he gets them right.
I wonder, does he have money problems? He is talking about buying a train set and a doctors outfit and he says that he will borrow the money to purchase them and they will not need the money paying back. I am really worried that it will all go wrong.
Still, as long as I have a warm place to sleep and 5 meals a day I am OK. Corby will have to buck his ideas up though, otherwise he will be looking for another cat!
© Grimy Miner 2018