Janet Christie: “I’m going to squeeze you till you purr”

Published on 22/07/2012 11:17

Returning home white-faced and broken from work as usual, I let myself in the street door and as I climb the stairs to our flat, I call his name as I know he’s the only one likely to give me an enthusiastic welcome.

“Hello Biggie, hello Mr Big, hello Big Boy. Mummy’s home and I’ve got something really special for you,” I say as I climb the steps, rattling a box of cat biscuits. There’s a rustling out of eye view up at the front door. Good, he’s waiting for me on the doormat.

“You’re a very lucky big boy. Just wait till you see what I’ve got for my special Biggie,” I ramble, like the saddo cat lady I’ve become. And why not? He never objects if I sing, dance or wear my black mullet-hemmed dress that Eldest Child says makes me “look like one of those piano players”.

I continue heaving myself upwards, still spouting ridiculous endearments. “You are my favourite, handsome big boy, just wait till I get hold of you. I’m going to squeeze you till you purr,” I witter as I mount the top step.

And come face to face with next door’s very scared plumber.