Now that that nasty old woman has decided to go I’ve made up my mind to start recording my thoughts on living in Downing Street with the new residents. You might have noticed that I was always hanging about outside the front door and you may have wondered why. Well, the main reason was that she hated me and I was never happier than being out of the house. From the day she moved in she made it clear that she was not a cat lover, she kept shooing me out of the cabinet office, never stroked me and kept forgetting to buy cat food. He was alright though, he would often pet me and saved little titbits for me when they had important people round for meals. If they were watching TV I would try to snuggle up to him, but if she saw me she would kick me out. That man David, who rescued me from Battersea Dogs and Cats Home when the Downing Street Rat population got too much for George Osborne’s useless Cat Freya, was OK. His partner Sam, and the kids, were quite nice and I really enjoyed showing Freya how tough a real South London cat was. I only ever tolerated her and we had some epic fights, even the Policeman on the door had to separate us (pity I was winning). She was eventually pensioned off, going to live with one of George’s friends, to save her further punishment.
It took me a while to get used to all the Media hanging about Downing Street and I scratched a few in the early days. Today I know which side my bread is buttered and I will often pose for photos, just for an easy life. I even got an official title which none of the other incumbents had received. Life was pretty good before She arrived, I had the full run of No’s 10, 11 and 12, caught a few mice, cat napped where and whenever i wanted, got fed regularly and received lots of strokes; I also met lots of the official visitors and even let some of them pet me. I was on particularly good behaviour when that Black US President popped in as I didn’t want to be called a racist. When the god king President visited it was raining so I sheltered under his car. They tried to get me out so that he could leave, but I took my time and only came out when the rain eased off. It was a sad day for me when David resigned and She moved in.
One day I was dozing in one of my favourite spots behind the sofa, where she couldn’t see me, when I heard her discussing me with a member of her inner circle. She was calling me, “The Chief Mouser to the Cabinet Office”, lazy and even suggesting I should be got rid of all because she had seen a mouse in the kitchen. There are so many mice in Downing Street that a dozen cats couldn’t keep them down. Fortunately wiser heads prevailed, it was pointed out to her that a cat had been employed at this task since the 1500s and that she would be even more hated if she sent me back to Battersea. It was then that I realised that I would have to make an effort and catch a few mice. So every time I got one I would dump it outside her bedroom door, just so I could here her screaming!
The new Blonde guy turned up today and I got fed up with all the crowds of people hanging around outside the front door waiting for him so I slipped past the bobby, wandered through the house and into the back garden where it was a lot more peaceful. I was having a nice little snooze when my internal Radar picked up a movement in the undergrowth near where that cricketer bloke had a pee. Opening one eye, I spotted that jumped up Palmerston from the Foreign Office creeping around in my territory. I leapt up and the loser quickly shot off over the wall like the coward he is. Since I ripped his ear a while back he isn’t interested in a decent fight. I have been keeping my head down this evening. Too many people coming and going being appointed Ministers. I just hid in my favourite spot behind the Sofa. It’s going to take some time to work out who amongst this new lot are Cat people and who aren’t.
I heard that the new Cabinet was meeting at 0830 so I thought I might get into the Cabinet Office and hide so that I could listen in. I heard that the Blonde, I really must try to find out what his name is, has appointed “The Mogg” as Leader of the House. What sort of Cat is The Mogg and will it be any better than me at dealing with the Rats? I never got a chance to get into a hiding place as the Ministers all started turning up early, something that never happened when She was in charge. But I did find out that the Mogg is a person and not a rival Cat. I also heard a lot of laughter from the meeting, things might be looking up. Loads more people turning up this afternoon and evening, I hear these are the junior Ministers being appointed. They can’t be very important, so I’ll just be snooty and strut around, I am, after all, Chief Mouser.
Met the Blonde guys female today, she seems quite nice and I even let her stroke me for a photo opportunity. I think we just might get on OK. I even rubbed myself around the Blondes legs and he didn’t push me away or shout at me. So far they have even remembered to feed me. I might see if I can find them a mouse as a present.
Cat napping behind the Sofa I heard something very worrying. The Blonde was talking about getting a Dog! He even asked some of the staff what they thought of the idea. Well if he had asked me I would have told him straight, dogs are no good at catching rodents. Well, not strictly true, I understand Jack Russell’s are pretty good ratters, but who wants one of those snappy little things. I bet they go for a big slobbering thing. Right, if they do I’ll show it who’s No 1 round here, a quick right paw to the nose, with the claws extended, will soon put it in its place. Then I might have to show the Blonde who’s the boss, I could easily get between his legs and trip him up when going down stairs. Just when I thought we were getting on so well.
Oh well, Sunday tomorrow, I might have a day off from diary writing as it’s so exhausting.
© WorthingGooner 2019
The Goodnight Vienna Audio file