Garfield's Heaven.
Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to the wonderful world of Garfield. Beta: IKindaWriteSometimes.
„Garfield, what are you doing?!"
Those were the words that resounded in Jon Arbuckle's house that calm morning, as he prepared himself breakfast – coffee and scrambled eggs. The delicious smell of which had just reached his pet's nostrils.
That was why he was climbing up the table now, salivating, trying to get to the eggs. The fat orange cat hoped his owner wouldn't see him as he was hurrying up to devour Jon's meal greedily. He miscalculated his dexterity though, as the next moment after he put his claws in the leg of the table, he was falling down – no, not falling down; Garfield was already lying on the floor of the kitchen with his right back paw bent at an unnatural angle.
„Garfield!"
In a moment Jon Arbuckle was with his pet, trying to get him up of the floor – quite a difficult task, given the cat's weight. When he touched his pet's leg, the cat meoowed painfully.
„It may be broken" he guessed upon examining it carefully. „I'm taking you to Liz".
The cat even didn't try to plead, although he typically hated visits at Liz's place; the leg hurt him too much.
Half an hour later, a concerned Jon was at Liz Wilson's office, holding an unhappy and sore Garfield in his arms. The cat had an x-ray test performed that confirmed Jon's suspitions – the cat's back leg was indeed broken.
„I'll put his leg in a plaster" said Liz.
She did what she said and Jon drove home, his pet's back leg put in a white plaster resembling a cocoon of some big insect.
When they arrived home, Jon carefully put Garfield in his cat's bed and the cat even didn't try to protest; in spite of the painkillers Liz gave him, he was too sore to do this. He closed his eyes and a moment later was asleep.
This is how the best days of Garfield's life started. Jon trying to compensate the cat for the days spent in bed, every day giving him the tastiest dishes ever. Lasagna. Hot dogs. Hamburgers. Everything Garfield liked. Every day he devoured bigger and bigger portions of food greedily, putting on weight. Jon suspected if he put his cat on the scales, it would scream out of fear and – if it only had legs – run away.
Garfield was in seventh heaven. He could lie in his bed or on the coach all the time watching TV (the leg stopped hurting after some time); he was being carried to the litter box by Jon (so he didn't hurt his leg); and – what was most important – he got the most delicious food he could dream of. Everything he needed to get it was a silent „meow" coming out of his mouth. So he lay in bed as happy as possible, almost forgetting his broken leg.
„I'm in heaven" the fat cat thought. He was eating better than any other time of his life. And putting on weight.
But what is good, ends very fast. The plaster got removed and the cat got back to normal life. But was it really so pleasant as before when he was still ill?
„Jon, give me some food" ordered Garfield, lazily raising his paw to show him a lasagna put on the table the cat was craving.
„No way, Garfield!" Jon got angry. „It's my food and you have your own snacks. I gave you food you like that when you were ill but now your leg is better and you should get used to not always getting what you want."
Garfield didn't answer – he was just a cat – but he did ponder this issue for a moment. He liked it so much that he kept pondering it more. He didn't say anything but it should be said he had a lot to think of.
The next day Jon Arbuckle was greeted by the sight of Garfield balancing unsteadily on the tower made of three chairs put on each other.
„Garfield, what the heck are you doing?" he asked angrily.
„Well, I'm just getting back to heaven. I'm just trying to break my other leg" Garfield thought.