don't you worry.' She busied herself preparing the weasel's meal while I kept as close to her as possible.
The food odours began to arouse my palate again and suddenly I was just as hungry as before. I rested my paws against her broad flank and begged to be fed again.
Page 20
'No, no. You get down now!' Her hand was more firm than before. 'You've had your dinner, it's his turn now.'
Still I persisted, but Bella ignored my whines. She began to talk to me, maybe to soothe me, or perhaps she was really talking to herself.
'Takes after his father. Never no good, but what do you do? They're flesh and blood. He could've been something, that boy, but he's wasted himself. Just like the old man, God rest him, same blood in 'em. I've done me best, God knows I've done me best. Kept him - kept 'em both - when they were out of work.
They've made me old, they have, between 'em.'
The smell of cooking was making me delirious.
'He's had some nice girls too. Can't keep 'em, though. Run a mile when they find out what he's like.
He'll never change. Arnold, it's nearly ready! Don't you go asleep!'
Bacon, eggs, more sausages. Oh God!
She began to butter bread at the kitchen table while I stayed rooted beneath the cooker, oblivious to the hot fat that spluttered and occasionally spat over. Bella brushed me out of the way with a leg and emptied the contents of the pan on to a plate. She put the plate on the table then clattered about for a knife and fork.
'Arnold! Your dinner's ready,' she called out. No reply. With an annoyed grunt and a determined look on her face Bella marched into the front room.
The dinner on the table beckoned to me.
It was unfortunate really that the chair previously occupied by Bella was still projecting out from the kitchen table. I clambered on to it, falling back down once but renewing my efforts with desperate eagerness, then rested my paws on the table-top. Bella could only have been out of the room for no more than a few seconds, but that's all it took for two slices of bacon and one and a half sausages to be devoured. I was saving the eggs till last.
My shriek of alarm joined Bella's shriek of dismay and the weasel's shriek of rage in a reverberating cacophony. I leapt from the chair just as the son lunged past his mother, claws outstretched to throttle me. Fortunately Bella used her massive frame to block his path and he sprawled forward over her fleshy hip, tumbling on to the floor in a loose bundle as only drunks can.
But even Bella was cross with me. I could see those muscled forearms were going to deal out some heavy punishment, so I did my best to keep the kitchen table between us. She stepped round her floundering son and advanced on me. I waited till she was half-way round the table, my front legs down, chin almost touching the floor, haunches high and quivering, then I shot beneath the table, heading for the open doorway - and straight into the arms of the weasel.
He picked me up by the neck, using two hands and squeezed as he did so, and raised himself from the floor, his demonic face only inches away from mine. My squirming body made him even more unsteady on his feet and he fell forward against the table. What was left of his dinner went flying as my back legs scrabbled for support, and his buttered bread, tomato sauce and God-knows-what-else followed suit.
'I'll kill 'im!' was all I heard before I sank my teeth into his skinny nose. (I'll bet he's still got those two Page 21
rows of indents on either side of his snout today.)
'Get 'ib boff,' he cried out to his mother, and I felt huge banana hands engulf me. Bella ripped me away from him and I had the pleasure of seeing red skid-marks down the length of his nose.
He clutched at it with both hands and howled, skipping on the spot in a sort of dance.
'Jesus, Jesus,' moaned Bella. 'You'll have to go now. I can't keep you now.'
She swept me out of the kitchen, shielding me with her body from her hopping son, lest he forget his pain for a
The food odours began to arouse my palate again and suddenly I was just as hungry as before. I rested my paws against her broad flank and begged to be fed again.
Page 20
'No, no. You get down now!' Her hand was more firm than before. 'You've had your dinner, it's his turn now.'
Still I persisted, but Bella ignored my whines. She began to talk to me, maybe to soothe me, or perhaps she was really talking to herself.
'Takes after his father. Never no good, but what do you do? They're flesh and blood. He could've been something, that boy, but he's wasted himself. Just like the old man, God rest him, same blood in 'em. I've done me best, God knows I've done me best. Kept him - kept 'em both - when they were out of work.
They've made me old, they have, between 'em.'
The smell of cooking was making me delirious.
'He's had some nice girls too. Can't keep 'em, though. Run a mile when they find out what he's like.
He'll never change. Arnold, it's nearly ready! Don't you go asleep!'
Bacon, eggs, more sausages. Oh God!
She began to butter bread at the kitchen table while I stayed rooted beneath the cooker, oblivious to the hot fat that spluttered and occasionally spat over. Bella brushed me out of the way with a leg and emptied the contents of the pan on to a plate. She put the plate on the table then clattered about for a knife and fork.
'Arnold! Your dinner's ready,' she called out. No reply. With an annoyed grunt and a determined look on her face Bella marched into the front room.
The dinner on the table beckoned to me.
It was unfortunate really that the chair previously occupied by Bella was still projecting out from the kitchen table. I clambered on to it, falling back down once but renewing my efforts with desperate eagerness, then rested my paws on the table-top. Bella could only have been out of the room for no more than a few seconds, but that's all it took for two slices of bacon and one and a half sausages to be devoured. I was saving the eggs till last.
My shriek of alarm joined Bella's shriek of dismay and the weasel's shriek of rage in a reverberating cacophony. I leapt from the chair just as the son lunged past his mother, claws outstretched to throttle me. Fortunately Bella used her massive frame to block his path and he sprawled forward over her fleshy hip, tumbling on to the floor in a loose bundle as only drunks can.
But even Bella was cross with me. I could see those muscled forearms were going to deal out some heavy punishment, so I did my best to keep the kitchen table between us. She stepped round her floundering son and advanced on me. I waited till she was half-way round the table, my front legs down, chin almost touching the floor, haunches high and quivering, then I shot beneath the table, heading for the open doorway - and straight into the arms of the weasel.
He picked me up by the neck, using two hands and squeezed as he did so, and raised himself from the floor, his demonic face only inches away from mine. My squirming body made him even more unsteady on his feet and he fell forward against the table. What was left of his dinner went flying as my back legs scrabbled for support, and his buttered bread, tomato sauce and God-knows-what-else followed suit.
'I'll kill 'im!' was all I heard before I sank my teeth into his skinny nose. (I'll bet he's still got those two Page 21
rows of indents on either side of his snout today.)
'Get 'ib boff,' he cried out to his mother, and I felt huge banana hands engulf me. Bella ripped me away from him and I had the pleasure of seeing red skid-marks down the length of his nose.
He clutched at it with both hands and howled, skipping on the spot in a sort of dance.
'Jesus, Jesus,' moaned Bella. 'You'll have to go now. I can't keep you now.'
She swept me out of the kitchen, shielding me with her body from her hopping son, lest he forget his pain for a
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