By Justin LewisBruno is a large brown Burmese we got from the Burmese rescue society. Until recently he has been superbly well behaved. I say “until recently” because he has started pinching food from the work surfaces in the kitchen and doing ‘the washing up’.
Last Monday I had the honour of looking after the children whilst Rosie went out to a birthday do with her friends. The children were pleasantly good and went to bed without too much shouting from me. Hoping for a quiet evening in front of the telly, little did I realise all hell was about to break loose. There was a strange noise from the kitchen and I went to investigate. Bruno was doing the washing up; he had his head as far into a gravy jug as he dared. “BRUNO!” I shouted. The shock made him jump but, instead of his head going up, it went down, deep into the gravy jug. In his panic Bruno started to thrash, he knocked off the Olivio, some cutlery and a rather nice mug. He then fell off himself, the jug still on his head. Bruno started to claw at the jug and when it didn’t come off he ran backwards trying to get away from it, I thought it was now time to intervene.
Stuck fast!
I grabbed Bruno by the scruff, pushed him to the floor and tried to pull off the jug. Bruno’s feet skidded wildly in the spilt gravy but the jug was definitely stuck! I looked around for inspiration and spotted the Olivio, there was a good splodge of it on the floor. I had the brilliant idea to use the Olivio as a lubricant. God, didn’t he wriggle as I tried to smear the margarine under the rim of the jug! A good hard pull and, no, the jug didn’t budge, I tried twisting it and I tried tilting it but no joy. Everything was getting covered in grease and gravy; Bruno slipped from my grip and ran into the bin. The handle broke off and Bruno ricocheted back into my hands. I had to act and act fast! There was an angry slurping noise coming from the jug and I was worried that the Olivio seal might be shutting off his air supply. I looked around in a panic and spotted a tea spoon nearby, the jug may have been one of Johnson Brother’s finest but now it had a handle missing and my cat was choking inside it.
I picked up the tea spoon and whacked the jug, “tink”, nothing. I whacked it again, harder this time, and still the jug remained whole. It was now I realised Bruno was still able to breathe; he started doing a Gloria Gaynor impression and it was so impressive, I was glad he was still wearing the jug. A sudden squirm meant I missed the jug at my third attempt and Bruno shot into the conservatory. Somehow he got under the large dining table and got the jug wedged against a chair leg. “I will survive” he howled as he heard me moving the furniture around him; he shot out and into the log basket and I grabbed his tail. Again I tried twisting and pulling but now the situation was desperate. I grabbed the poker and, CHINK! I smashed most of the jug. I say “smashed most of the jug” because he was still wearing the rim and spout like an Elizabethan collar. Bruno realised I was blocking his access to the cat flap that was creating the chink of light and charged to the highest cupboard in the utility room.
Musical moments
As I approached, Bruno’s tones deepened to something more like Grace Jones, his glare, for a moment, made me realise how Russell Harty must have felt. I put my hand out and again the tones deepened to those of Barry White. Although I think he knew I was trying to help, the collar, the grease, the gravy, the tinnitus and me approaching with the poker was too much for him. I got the full Barry White rendition: “First, last, everything” got mixed with “It’s only love doing this thing”. I was then within an inch and he sang “let’s make tonight an evening to remember”. Again I managed to grab his scruff and he sang “oh me, oh my, I’m such a lucky guy!” Our eyes met, his huge green globes shone from beneath the punk hairdo; I was mesmerised by them and missed him preparing his talons. Thwack! straight into my upper thigh. The instant allergic reaction to cat and Bisto made me drop him. Whoosh! He was gone, straight out of the cat flap.
The reckoning
I spent a nervous two hours cleaning up the broken jug, the gravy and the Olivio, it was everywhere! I went outside with the torch to see whether I could see Bruno. I came back in and did the washing up, and this was my downfall. The moment Rosie came back in she knew something was up, just like when I buy her flowers. I had to tell her the truth but however hard I tried I couldn’t keep a straight face, “I know it’s not funny” I protested, but I was doomed. “Bruno”, Rosie gently called and instantly he appeared from behind the compost. Nervously he growled at me and let Rosie pick him up; Rosie plucked the collar from around his neck as if it was five sizes too large and the pair of them gave me a smug look. “Huck” said Bruno “huck, huck, huck kweuch”. Bruno decorated Rosie’s best dress with the grease and gravy he had licked off of himself. “You shouldn’t have picked him up so fast” I said. Oh dear! I knew it was the wrong thing to say but it just slipped out, whatever I did next was going to be wrong. Bruno was alive and safe, Rosie was alive and safe, both were livid so I slunk off to bed.