what?'
'That's for me to know. But let's just say we have a bit of an understanding, Miss Steph and I.'
'Oh do you now,' says Rocky. 'Miss Steph and I have an understanding, too. She whispers to me too, you know.'
'And me,' says Maharani.
'What does she call you, Colonel?' I ask.
'Ahem. Monty Boy. Very unflattering for a feeli of my rank and social standing.'
'I'd take it as a compliment. She either thinks you're younger or cuter than you are.'
'I'd never thought of it that way.' The Colonel nods. 'Maybe you're right, young lady.'
'Jeez, I haven't been called that for a while.'
'So what does she call Beethoven and Roger and Blacky?'
'Beethoven she calls Snowman, and Roger she calls… Roger,' Maharani answers.
'Oh so she doesn't think you're special Rog?'
'She hasn't even got to know me yet. I've only been here a couple of days. But she calls Blacky, Possum, which is really not that far off because we call him Rabbit.'
'Why Rabbit?'
'Because when he runs, he always lifts both back paws at once, so he looks like he's hopping.'
'Oh,' I nod knowingly. 'Don't know how I'm going to remember all these names; it's all so confusing,' I confess.
'Don't worry darl, you'll get the hang of it in no time,' Big Dan says soothingly.
'Hey guys, isn't it time for drama class to start?' Roger asks excitedly.
I'm not sure I'm up for this so I meander back up the ramp and turn a few circles on the bed, prodding, clawing and pronkledonking it into shape. I plonk down. No, it's not quite right. I stand again and repeat the routine just to be sure.
Yep, that's better. I feel like I'm in a front row dress-circle seat in a fine theatre, just waiting for the show to begin.
'Now', says Zsa Zsa, 'we're up to the balcony scene, so Maharani you need to get up on the top shelf pronto and you need to look sort of innocent but sexy at the same time.'
'Yeah, I can do that. So where's Rocky?'
'He's down below in the courtyard sort of mincing around when he sees you appear.'
'Okay, I'm ready,' says Rocky.
'Okay, off you go then,' says Zsa Zsa.
Rocky clears his throat, paces to the front of his pen and adopts a statuesque stance. Then he looks up in the air as though he sees something important. I can't imagine what. And then he speaks:
'But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet's in the sun-'
'No, no Rocky, it's "Juliet is the sun" not Juliet's in the sun,' Zsa Zsa corrects.
'But how can a deuxjamb be the sun? I don't get it. Where do they come up with this stuff?'
'Never mind, just keep going.'
'I would if you'd stop interrupting me. Where was I? Ah yes:
'Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon…'
Rocky's voice puts me into a sort of sleepy daze and I struggle to keep my eyes open. I look across and see Maharani pacing along her shelf, waiting for her lead in.
'…And sails upon the bosom of the air.'
Rocky cracks up: 'Bosom of the air - how can the air have bosoms?'
'Oh Rocky, please try not to live up to my expectations of you. You've spoiled my scene, can't you ever just do it right?'
'Come on Maharani, just ignore him and keep going,' Zsa Zsa says.
'Okay, okay,' Maharani resumes her pose, and says"
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name: Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Catlet.
'Very good, Maharani, very good,' Zsa Zsa applauds.
Maharani flicks her tail and rubs her face up the wall as Rocky continues.
I've got to confess I've got no idea what they're going on about, nor can I figure out why she doesn't just jump down off the shelf and talk to him at eye level. But hey, I'm not going to interrupt.
I also can't figure out all the mewly-mewly. Why don't they just say what they want to say instead of beating around with a brush? And why on earth doesn't the girl want to be a catlet any more?
Beethoven's probably lucky he can't hear this; it's pretty yawny stuff. I glance across to his pen and see him with his ear to the ground.
A rascal called Raffles
'Shh, she's coming,' Beethoven calls out. 'Miss Steph is coming.'
He runs up his ramp to the top shelf and curls himself in a tight ball, feigning sleep. Maharani is quick to follow. I can't figure this out. When I arrived this morning everyone was up and screaming; now they're all pretending to be asleep.
'Psst Maharani,' I whisper 'how come we're all pretending to be asleep?'
'D'oh Juno, you know that all deuxjambs think we sleep all afternoon. We just like to live up to their illusions - you know, play along. That maintains the cattus quo. They think they're in charge and we go along with it so they think they've got us sorted out,' Maharani says.
'I see. That's clever. I mean, I do that at home but I didn't realise it was part of some grander scheme.'
'There's a bit of reverse psychology there too,' Big Dan whispers, 'because if we make them think we want to sleep all afternoon, they'll think we're being yawny and they'll go away and leave us alone, which gives us cat blanche to do whatever we want.'
I purse my lips and nod, my head tilted slightly. 'Makes perfect sense to me.'
I follow the others and curl myself into a pretzel shape. But I keep one eye open just enough to see what's going on. I see Miss Steph tiptoeing past, carrying a cage. Two green eyes the size of dinner plates peer out of a face, the likes of which I've never seen before. It looks like a cross between a spoffum and a hootle. Certainly I haven't seen a feeli that looks like that before.
'Here we are then, Raffles, number 25 for you. Now you settle in there and I'll be back in a tick with the camera, oh, and maybe I'll get a photo of Miss Fudgepuddle while I'm at it.'
Fudgepuddle! I crack up. Who does she call Fudgepuddle? What a scream. I roll on my back and try hard to
