A cowardly cat? Or a stupid me?

Call it boredom, call it a literary rampage or call it madness, but here I am, with my second post in two days after a three month break from blogging. The story continues where I left off yesterday. I bickered, blackmailed and begged, but my cousin refused to bunk college to keep me company today. The excuse she gave was that she was likely to face an enquiry by her HOD in case she bunked, as a lot of other people (the better-brained ones, in my opinion) had decided to bunk and the class would be virtually empty. What a waste of a chance! I personally feel that facing enquiries is one of the most fun things to do in college. But anyway, at 8 a.m. sharp, off went the lone warrior to class, to save herself from an enquiry.

The dhobi was too busy today to engage himself in the routine quarrel, a point which he made with the least subtlety to my uncle. I could see a lot of disappointed faces peering over the walls of the nearby houses. After roaming around the house with the book for about an hour, and a breakfast (uncle thinks cooking is his hidden talent; I'd prefer it remained that way, well hidden), I settled in front of the TV with the book. He left for work soon and I remembered the appointment I had with the cat that was supposed to creep into the kitchen.

I began preparing myself mentally for this meeting. I seriously doubted felines would be impressed with the "Bond, James Bond" kind of intro. I needed to gain the cat's trust and friendship at any cost, for otherwise the day would have to be spent without any company. Now another question erupted inside the volcano that my brain is. Was it a 'guy' cat, or a 'gal' cat that I was to be seeing? This got me thinking seriously. 'Guy' cats, I thought, would be easy to manage and make friends with, as long as they didn't keep knocking down vessels off the shelves. But earning the trust of 'gal' cats would definitely be tough. Cat or not, they'd definitely doubt my intentions. And even if I was successful, there was always this danger of the 'gal' cat getting carried too far...er...I guess the reader understands. I was pondering over this, when suddenly the thundering noise of a vessel hitting the floor and a loud "miaow" shattered the peace of the still house.

I rushed into the kitchen, with the book in my hand, for that was the source of this disturbance. And there it was, right in front of me, standing on 4 legs. We stared at each other for a second. Blink. And then I was doing the staring alone, for one look at me and my feline buddy was out of the window in a flash. The whole incident shook me. I regained my senses and started pondering what it was about me that had scared a perfectly brave cat into running for its life? It was then that I noticed the 1134 pages book in my hand and cursed myself. Even the most courageous of cats would've had a heart attack on seeing a guy rush into a room, armed with a copy of "Electrical and Electronics Measurement and Instrumentation". The cursed book never did anyone good, except during life threatening situations where it could be a lethal weapon or in class, as a good substitute for a pillow. Now it had scared the poor little cat away even before we got a chance to know each other. No long chats, no evening dinners...it was all gone. Bloody heck, I didn't even get a chance to know if it was a 'guy' cat or a 'gal' cat.

I spent the rest of the afternoon lamenting on how different things could've been between the cat and me had I had the sense not to go charging into the kitchen with the book in my hand and scare the living daylights out of the four legged creature. The day wasn't very eventful after that incident and I spent the rest of it cursing the bloody book. Sigh...hope I have a happier ending for tomorrow's story...