The Musings of Toby Hooper

Genre: Family, humour

Pairings: Greg and Molly, Sherlock and Sally, background only

Main characters: Toby Hooper with observations of ensemble

There is an elderly queen living in this house where I must ascend stairs to reach. She's not hard to please. Occasionally I'll consent to catch a mouse for her, for sport, and she always rewards me with utmost respect and affection.

The first time I did so, however, she shrieked, a horrible, ear-piercing sound to my sensitive ears. I simply sat and stared at her, deciding most wisely that perhaps dropping the dead creature at her feet was not the best way to go.

The second time, however, I learned that if I played it just so, she may reward me with cream, and perhaps a belly rub.

The entire incident happened quite by chance.

I knew there were quarry in the area where she dwells, and as it happened, the tom and queen I live with downstairs decided to let me out to explore.

When I heard the elderly queen shriek, I quickly dashed towards her to see if I could ascertain the problem. I found her standing on a chair, looking quite out of sorts. A quick sniff of the air and a glance towards the corner revealed it – my prey.

I've lived long, for a cat, though I'm not by any means elderly quite yet. Still, I have nonetheless seen my share of mice, and believe me when I tell you that this was by far the largest mouse I have ever happened my keen eyes upon.

He was glorious, and the game was afoot!

Springing into action, I pounced, digging my claws into it and holding it fast whilst my bite found its mark. As a rule, I like to play with them a bit for amusement once I've killed them – if I've killed them quite yet. This time, however, I felt it wiser to simply dispatch him quickly and leave it at that.

Once this task had been completed and I had dropped him near the bin for her, a most remarkable thing occurred. The elderly queen stepped down from the chair, and picking me up, proceeded to rub her cheek all over me, marking me. She then gave my chin a solid rub, which made me wiggle and purr with an embarrassing amount of bliss. Rather than setting me free, however, she proceeded to carry me into her kitchen, where she gave me a dish of the most delicious sweet cream, gently stroking my head and back all the while.

Human queens are not hard to charm, and mine is especially affectionate with me. She adopted me as a kitten and has been quite favourable to me ever since. She allows me to sleep wherever I please and frequently feeds me fish from a tin. In return, I sleep by her head and keep her warm, or on her lap when she's tired. When she's upset, I wind my way around her ankles and purr loudly. This always seems to help somewhat. When she was with kittens and would curl up on her side on her bed, her tom would sometimes roll away from her to allow me a space in between them. There, I would lay on my side and use my front paws to knead out the discomfort in her back. While I did this, her tom would scratch my ears and stroke my belly to show his appreciation.

Nobody likes a grumpy queen, least of all her tom.

Human toms can be a bit more difficult. However, the one I live with, the aforementioned tom I believe my queen, called Molly, refers to as darling, or Greg, appears to be a delightful exception. Sometimes, when she's upset with him, she will call him Gregory, but other times, she purrs at him and calls him Gregory Joseph. Not surprisingly, this behaviour has led to three kittens of varying ages – two of the same litter, in fact. They have been taught to be gentle with me, however, and they are warm sleeping companions.

This adult tom Greg doesn't seem to mind me at all, in fact he will even consent to pick me up on occasion and allow me to boop him under his chin. He doesn't seem to mind that I leave my mark all over his suit jacket by rubbing my cheeks on his shoulder and leaving him adorned with stray hairs. Any respectable cat must be sure to claim their property, after all. When he puts me down onto the floor – he never allows me to jump, he always sets me down on all four paws, quite gently in fact. A mutual respect between the toms of any household is always a good thing, and for this, he never shoos me away from the cat toy box in the living room. He calls it a "freshwater aquarium," but I see it as live entertainment.

The two toms upstairs, however, are a different matter.

The one, I've heard him referred to as Sherlock, treats me with a grudging respect at best, and outright rudeness at worst. I have learned that, when I'm bored, he is the most likely to amuse me by becoming irritated by my mere presence. Before my queen and her tom moved us to this place with their two kittens (this was well before the third arrived), it was only Molly's presence that prevented him from shoving me aside too harshly when he desired to take my resting spot.

The other one, he is called John, treats me with… not disrespect so much as aloofness. He is by far the most feline of all the toms in this place. My attempts to garner favour with him are only met with result when the young queen, I believe she is his kitten, is in the room. Rosie is what they call her, and she adores me even more than Molly does. She is always gentle with me and consents to allow me to sleep in her bed on occasion. It is Rosie, in fact, who has taught the young kittens downstairs to not pull on my tail.

There is a new queen in the flat furthest upstairs, however. She departs and returns frequently accompanied by my tom, Greg. I have gathered that they are friends and like to hunt in the same spots, as they invariably accompany each other. This new queen is called Sally by everyone here, though mostly the tom Sherlock refers to her as Old Plod, or love, and she refers to him as Git, or darling. Humans are such a strange breed of cat. She has recently become with kittens as well, though I have gathered that they haven't figured that out yet.

This new queen likes to spoil me as well, though there are times I feel she does this to tease her tom. Unfortunately, Sherlock has seemed to warm towards me ever so slightly, possibly to appease Sally, which has spoiled my fun at times.

In any case, the elderly queen, the one who gives me cream and snuggles in her kitchen, and who everyone seems to call Mrs. Hudson, allows me free rein of the place.

I suppose there are cats in the world who live a more luxurious life of pleasure and comfort than I do, but I honestly can't imagine it.