definitely think you're a candidate for aerobics, you need to get that heart pumping and get some air in those lungs. We'll be starting soon,' Maharani says with a flourish of her tail.
'So what are we waiting for?'
'The music of course. Miss Steph always turns the music on at two o'clock. But you might as well get down and start with some stretching exercises.'
'Oh, okay,' I say, reluctantly. I notice Maharani wriggling her chokeystrap up over her ears and onto her forehead. 'What on earth are you doing?'
'It keeps the fur out of my eyes, okay. I mean, you can't exercise properly with fur in your eyes,' she explains condescendingly, as though I should have known all about this gym club fashion faux pas.
'I've gotta say I've never really had that problem. You look like Olivia Newton John in Let's Get Cynical. Thank God you haven't got a leotard.'
I'm making my way down the ramp, I hear speakers - right over my head - crackle to life with the opening refrain of Cool for Cats which is, without a doubt, my absolutely favouristest song of all time. I look over and see Maharani putting her front paws up on the ramp.
'Here, watch me,' she says, 'I'll show you all the moves.'
I get myself into position and follow her lead. First we press our shoulders forward until our chest touches the ramp. We do that a few times. Then we turn around and spread our back legs and try to touch both sides of our pens with our front paws. That takes quiet a bit of effort for me and I know there's no way I'm going to reach.
Then she's got me standing on my hind legs stretching my whole body as high as it can go and next I'm on the floor doing puss-ups. This is getting pretty exhausting, I must say, and I feel like I'm about to break into a sweat.
'Hey, slow down a bit, will you?' I call out.
'What do you mean slow down? This is just the warm-up.'
'Cripes,' I pant. 'Well I think that's it for me. I'm gonna throw in the towel.'
'Oh, you're really puss-weak; you're never going to lose that flab if you don't put in the hard work. Don't tell me you're like Zsa Zsa and would rather pay someone to do your exercises for you.'
'Well it is all so unladylike,' says Zsa Zsa. 'And quite unbecoming to a feeli of my pedigree.'
'Hah, I s'pose you think your kackapod doesn't stink,' Rocky remarks.
'I am not even going to deign to answer that, you horrid wuzzer. It would be quite beneath my dignity.'
'Everything's beneath your dignity, Zsa. You've got that much stuff beneath you it's no wonder you sit up there so high and mighty,' Rocky says.
'Pfffft,' Zsa Zsa spits. 'And you only think you're tough because they put your tattoo on the outside of your ear. I bet you're really just all hiss and wind.' She scratches the carpety stuff on her ramp 'Oh, darn it, I've broken a nail.'
'Well I am tough, I'll show you all my scars to prove it,' Rocky protests.
'Young man, if you were so tough you wouldn't have any scars because you'd never come off second best. I bet Big Dan doesn't have any scars, do you?' Zsa Zsa says condescendingly.
'No madam, you're quite right, I have no scars and you have to look very closely to see my tattoo.'
I wish I could get to see Big Dan. His voice is enough to make me go weak at the knees; I'd love to know what he looks like. He sounds like such a gentlefeeli.
'When I was young, all the other kisskies in the street would goad and taunt me, trying to get me to fight, I guess because I was always so much bigger than them. I did box professionally for a while, but I found it all a bit pointless really, because I always won.
Sometimes I'd just give my look and they'd back off and wuss away with their tail between their legs. But I was quite famous there for a while. I still have some clippings from the Cat 'o' Nine Tales Weekly.'
'Wow,' Roger says, 'maybe you could teach me some basics. There's this absolute ratbag feeli next door at home who's always picking on me.'
'Well, I guess I could run classes, if anyone else is interested, eh Rocky?'
'I really doubt you could teach me anything. Like I said before, I'm tough.'
'I would be honoured to join your class,' the snobby-sounding British blue says. 'I never got to learn boxing while on active duty. That was something that was frowned upon by us officers, but secretly I always wanted to try it. Maybe I could be your enrolment officer, it would give me something to do.'
'Sure thing, if you'd like, Colonel,' Big Dan replies.
'Colonel Montgomery Enfield the Third at your service.'
'Shhh,' Maharani hisses, 'my favourite song's coming on.'
With that, Tom Cat Jones starts crooning, 'What's new pussycat? Whoa oo oh oo oh oh'. Maharani starts singing along and I hear a few other voices chime in too, so I figure I might as well join in too. 'Pussycat, pussycat-'
'Who on earth is that singing so flat?' comes a voice from a few pens down. 'If you're going to join in, please allow me to give you some private tuition first. We can't just have anyone piping in and spoiling it all.'
'Who's that?' I ask Maharani.
'Oh that's Finny, the singing teacher. You should listen to her, she's a beautiful singer. Voice like an angel. But then she's gorgeous to look at, too. She's a really pretty ragdoll. Some girls just have it all. Actually, I take that back; because there's one thing she can't do. She can't dance, she's just too floppy. You know, typical ragdoll. She lifts one leg and just falls over sideways. Completely and utterly uncoordinated. Her deuxjambs call her Sheba but Miss Steph calls her Bootiful.'
'So does Miss Steph have her own name for all of us?'
'Some of us, but I think it's only if she thinks you're special or if you're here long enough,' Maharani says.
'So what does she call you?'
'Princess, which I'm quite happy with really.'
'And what does she call Rocky?'
'Boofhead, or sometimes just Boof or Boofy,' Maharani says with a giggle.
'That's nearly as bad as Ralph, which is what my deuxjambs call me,' Rocky confesses.
'And before you ask, it was Miss Steph who first called me Zsa Zsa, and it's sort of stuck.'
'Oh, okay, so what does she call you, Big Dan?'
'Fess. She calls me Fess and I have no idea why.'
'Oh Big Dan,' says the Colonel, 'it's so obvious. Haven't you ever watched Daniel Boone?'
'What or who is Daniel Boone?' Big Dan asks.
The Colonel explains and I can almost hear the light globe going on over Big Dan's head. 'Huh, well I had no idea. That explains a lot. Oh yes, it explains a lot of the things she whispers in my ear.'
'Like
