The tale about my black tom Viggo destroying the tuning part of my guitar as a statement has sparked quite a few comments.
So I decided to allow a quick interview, to set all your minds at rest.
(Viggo on one of his preferred resting spots in the garden)
- You destroyed your woman's guitar by kicking it off its stand? Can you tell us something about this?
V: First of all, she is not 'my woman'.
- Sorry?!
V: I adopted her when she came to the animal shelter, all needy, and I liked the look of her. She smelled good. So I decided to go and live with her.
- The guitar?
V: Yeah, well, I came in through the balcony doors, it was cold out, and I felt a bit peckish. So I did my usual wake-up call, but she refused to wake up. So then I decided to make a statement.
- Was there no other way? I mean, that guitar was supposedly brand new. It's a bit harsh, don't you think?
V: No, not really. I did try to wake her up. I even was quite gentle about it, I only tugged her hair once. She hid her head under the duvet. What could I do? So I jumped up on the bookcase ledge, at just the right height for the guitar. It was easy, a kitten could have done it. All it took was one nudge. Just a nudge. Reports of me kicking anything are definitely untrue.
- She said it was an almighty crash. And that you did it out of spite for not jumping out of bed and feeding you.
V: No comment.
- Well, is it true that you tend to destroy books in order to get fed?
V: Who told you that?
-Your wo...Sorry. The woman you adopted.
V: Look, sweetheart, a cat's got to do what a cat's got to do. I have needs. You have to understand I patrol the garden all night long, to keep the strays out. And I catch at least three moles or voles a week, that's hard work, right? I need to keep my strength up.
-Yes, but books! They are...
V: Sacred? Rubbish! They smell funny. And she has taken to putting the newspapers straight into the wheelie bin, so I cannot get to them anymore. So I have to take what's handy.
-You don't look all that macho. In fact, she has told me she adores you and that you decidedly have a soft side to you.
V: She knows how to rub my fur in just the right way, yeah. And I do like to get my belly tickled. Okay, okay, I admit it. She's quite a catch, as adopted women go. She hardly ever denies me anything, and she isn't one of those soppy "Ooooooh-kitty-kitty-kitty" kind either. She leaves me in peace when I have to digest my food. And I come and go as I please. So, yeah, I do purr a lot, she seems to like that. And in the cold weather she's nice and warm to cuddle up to on the bed.
-Don't you feel just a little bit sorry for all that trouble she had to go to with that guitar?
V: No.
-Is there anything you would like to say to the people who read this interview with you?
V: Send cat food. Oh...and send salami. I have recently acquired a taste for that. And a bit of catnip never goes wasted.
-Thank you.
V: You can leave now!
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