Grandad sat in his favourite armchair in the conservatory.

He was reading yesterday’s paper and idly wondering whether he would bother cutting the lawns or not.  Penny was asleep in a lake of sunshine on her couch.  The doors to the garden were open and there was a gentle cooling breeze wafting in the scents of a summer garden.  A picture of peace and tranquillity.

He suddenly had that feeing he was being watched.

He was.  There, opposite him outside the window was a cat sitting on the windowsill.  The cat stared at him with a look of pure curiosity and wonderment.  It was a small cat, barely more than a kitten, pitch black and wasn’t at all like Arsehole – his own cat – who had a great deal bigger and had different colours.  Anyway Arsehole was stretched out on the terrace outside the door and was watching the black cat with amusement.

The black cat stared for a while and then moved along the windowsill towards the open doors, stopping every now and then to peer at Grandad again.

He soon reached the end of the sill, jumped off and landed beside Arsehole.  The latter was now sniggering.  He knew exactly what was going to happen and had probably planned the whole thing.  He’s a devious little cunt.

The black cat now stood in the doorway staring at Grandad.  He put a tentative paw forward and was soon inside the conservatory slowly creeping towards the man in the armchair.

The dog woke up.

She looked at it with that sneering expression she reserves for Arsehole but then her brain fully awakened.  Wrong cat!

Well, I have never seen a cat move so fast.  But then Penny is a bloody fast runner too.  They were roughly neck and neck as they crashed into the bushes at the far end of the garden.

Arsehole never moved, just laughed.

The dog came back eventually.

There’s no sign of the black cat.