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| Sunday, 05 March 2006 |
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Talks from the Walauwa : Tales catcalls by Cat O'Logge Purr...It's ever so nice to be a cat, I should think. Especially in thisWalauwa household. Even the daughter of the house commented on it the other day.
The next day she was seen going after Rudophus (the big stupid dog with an even more stupid name) with a broom, for having chewed her favourite flip-flops. Well, they didn't taste good at all, I can tell you. You see, that's the other thing about being a cat. No one sees your getting about your business (Although I'm forced to believe that Magilin the vicious cook has some sort of sixth sense when it comes to cats with full bladders and such, near her Mukunuwanna Pathiya). You can saunter in and out of rooms at your pleasure, and no one will stop connoustions or change topics (They say the most remarkably interesting things...) Infact I'm privy to all that goes on in this house. More so than the mother of the house, who always scolds her offer-spring with ".... as if I don't know what you're up to..." I don't suppose anyone knows that Leela the buxom maid always happens to be occupied somewhere near the gate, when it's time for the village postman (dashing only because he pedals fast, I tell you) to pass through on his old (to the point of not needing a bell to announce his presence) bicycle. Ah, life is but another of these episodes of little people dancing about in that small box. I just settle down in some corner, snuggle up and wade in the proceedings. I was doing just that yesterday when Pala the gardener came running to the Walauwa looking for the father of the house. All huffing and puffing he said that someone had been throwing bags of garbage into some bushes in the garden. "Oh, goody! goody!" said I and I trotted off to see if there would be a little something for me there, though only after dressing someone's slipper to learn near a sleeping Rudolphus. There was absolutely nothing of value there. Only mounds and mounds of polythene bags full of all sorts of inedible shampoo packets, broken mugs and plastic margarine containers and such like. I was on my way back when I heard Pala telling the father of the house that this Pala will certainly catch the culprit and will skin him and break his two legs. Father of the house didn't look very reassured and quite rightly too. Pala is forever threatening to skin and break people's legs, but the only injury he had been involved in was when he had chased after a woman running off with a fallen coconut. He had twisted his ankle. Life here in the walauwa is certainly not boring. So look out for this column to read about the interesting life I have here. I should be getting along now though. Leela probably has my lunch ready for me. After all Egyptians didn't worship us for nothing. |
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"This stupid cat has it easier than anyone else" said she, kicking me
from where she sat like a pudding watching little people jollying about in a
little box, (Talk about being caged...). She indulges in this past time, for
hours on end. 
