He sighs. He paces round and round the room. He goes to the window every five minutes and scans the street, searching for something, someone. He looks at his watch.

He notices he has no watch.

Then it dawns on him. He never did have a watch, because…

He’s a cat! A cat called Smoky (as if you hadn’t guessed). And he’s waiting for the postman. Been waiting for him most of the week, as it happens. Because the postman, when he eventually gets around to bringing it, will have something very special for him. A bird tree. Or was it a treebird? Shucks! (Better ask Momma a.k.a. Shana, who ordered it for him.)

Anyway, it’s a new toy, is what it is. And why does little Smoky want a new toy, you may ask. Well, why does any kitty want a new toy? Simple:

He’s bored with the old ones.

If you are a cat, your usual attention span is about five minutes max. Smoky has had some of his toys (tatty yarn, tatty mice, tatty slippers etc) for more than five months. We try to come up with new ways to amuse him: ‘Get him a budgie,’ I suggested. ‘He’ll have minutes of fun with that.’ Once, in a similar vein some time ago, I said: ‘Maybe he’d like a budgerigar. Best get him half a dozen, just to be on the safe side.’ (Not to mention the bulk discount, of course.)

Mind you, it wouldn’t have been a very safe side for the budgies, now would it?

Anyway, tomorrow (fingers crossed) or by Monday at the latest, Smoky’s new toy–whatever it is–should be here.

We know what to expect.

We’ll unwrap Shiny New Toy and present it to Smoky. He’ll sniff at it for thirty seconds, scratch his ear, then ignore it.

But he’ll absolutely love the box.


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