Saturday, July 05, 2008

O'Reilly's Kitten







Someone mentioned that old O'Reilly sounded a little like a Curmudgeon. Which in turn reminded me of a book, titled "The Cat and The Curmudgeon" by Cleveland Amory. I have a little tiger tail at home, that likes to natter at me and will comment on things if asked. And thus it happened.....

O'Reilly nudged the dusty, nicotine-yellow curtain carefully aside and peeked out.
Hah, she wasn't there, had given up!!
Triumphantly rubbing his arthritic hands, he danced a few wobbly steps of a Reel. Fashious woman, camping out on his threshold, bleating at him with her shrill voice as soon as he cracked the door open even a bit. Followed him everywhere, even to McCarthy's Pub, the shameless wench. Last week he'd tried to climb out of the window of the back room, so she would not see him leave, but the window sill had been to high.
"Ah well," said O'Reilly, "bugger it, tha' window was too small, anywa'...."



O'Reilly took a slightly less shabby cap from the hooks on the wall, tied a somewhat cleaner Neckerchief around his stringy old-man-throat, put housekey and wallet in his pocket and opened the blue-laquered front door to his cottage, whistling a ditty.



"Mrrouw"



Pope Benedict's Kneecaps!! She was still around, the confounded bint!!
Why in the world of all the people in the village she had to choose Seamus Daniel O'Reilly? What about the Widow Maguire? Why didn't she go there? She fed all of her pension to the blasted critters, one more wouldn't matter!



"Mrrouw!!"



O'Reilley slammed the door and ignored the little cat.



"MMrrouw!!!"



O'Reilly marched on undeterred, the chattering cat tagging along.



"MMRROUW!!!!"



"St. Patricks Pipecleaners!!" railed O'Reilly, "will ye stop nagging me?" The cat sat down in front of him, yawned and winked, before licking her little left paw. Shaunessy, who leaned against his gardenfence suckling on his pipe, giggled. "Oy, has a healthy respect for you the little one, eh? Reminds me of yer Shannon." O'Reilly gave him the evil eye, pulled the cap lower on his forehead and marched on, hands in his pockets and grumbling under his breath. He payed even less attention to the little tigercat than before.



"MMRROUW!!!"



"Och, will ye shut yer gob!" groused O'Reilly.



Arriving at Finnegan's, who puttered around in the garden as usual, O'Reilly dropped down on the bench, pulled out a dingy hankie and wiped his brow.
"Mmrrouw?" inquired the little cat politely of Finnegan, who stiffly leaned down to pet her little head.
"I thank ye, I'm fine, Mavourneen." he said and O'Reilly snorted. "Talking to a moggie, that'll be the day!!" He rummaged under the bench for Finnegans bottle of beer. The little cat watched him. He was just about to take a drink, when she jumped up on his lap, purring loudly.
"St. Columban's Castagnettes!" cursed O'Reilly. "Stop yer shenanigans!" Finnegan laughed. "I think she likes you, you auld curmudgeon."



"Ah well......." said O'Reilly.