service.’
Hmm. She was getting really carried away now.
‘Look – what about this?’ She showed me what she’d sketched out:
‘What does “RIP” mean?’ I asked.
‘“Really Important Person”; you always find it on gravestones and so on to show how important that person was to their family,’ Jazz said, her eyes shining with
enthusiasm.
‘Shouldn’t we put RIC, then?’ I said.
‘Eh?’
‘You know, Really Important Cat?’ I insisted. A voice in my head was saying, ‘I cannot believe you are even having this conversation.’
Jazz shook her head. ‘No, no. It’s always RIP . We can pretend in this case that it stands for Really Important Pet, if that helps?’
Jazz always has an answer for everything.
‘Do we have to sing “Memory” from Cats ?’ I asked, feeling very squirmy at the thought. I seemed to remember that the music went very high and screechy and I
didn’t think I’d be able to reach the top notes. And what if Pinkella’s next-door neighbours heard and wanted to know what we were doing?Then the cat really would be out of the
bag. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
But then I noticed that Jazz had put on one of her huffy faces so I said quickly, ‘Actually, I think it’s going to be fab – don’t listen to me.’
At last Jazz agreed that we had done enough preparation and that we could go ahead with the service. I think the fact that I kept glancing at my watch and pacing up and down had something to do
with it.
‘Dearly beloved . . .’ she began in a droning, deep voice. She sounded like she was a grey and wrinkly ninety-year-old priest instead of my best friend. We ird bubbles of
inappropriate laughter started to fizz up inside my nose.
‘We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of our much-loved brother Kaboodle—’
‘ Brother? ’ I squeaked. ‘But he’s a kitten!’
Jazz shot me a dirty look and carried on: ‘. . . much-loved brother, Kaboodle the kitten . Kaboodle was a kitten above all others. He will be sorely missed. In his memory, we will
now sing the song printed on the order of service.’
And then, solemn as anything, she started to sing, ‘ Mem-ry, not a sound from the pave-ment . . .’
I couldn’t help it, the laughter just burst out. You couldn’t blame me. She sounded how I imagined Kaboodle would if he’d got his tail trapped in a door, or if Pinkella had
stepped on him by accident in her high-heeled spiky pink shoes.
Very soon I was howling. I just couldn’t stop. I had to sit down on the bench, otherwise I would have fallen over.
Jazz was furious. ‘Thanks for nothing!’ she ye lled at me. ‘I was only trying to make you feel better. Isn’t that what mates are for?’ And when in response I shook
my head with silent laughter, trying in vain to get my breath back, she spun on the heel of her trainers and marched out of the garden, leaving me there, gasping for breath.
Deep down inside I felt one hundred per cent horrendous for laughing at Jazz like that. But it was no good. I had got to that stage of laughing when you are panting hard, trying to get your
breath back while vaguely hoping you are not going to be sick. I had lost control of every one of my senses. The sight of Jazz flouncing off in a huff just made it worse. I wiped the tears from my
eyes and struggled to get up from the bench, and was just about to call out to her when a smooth, suave voice beside me said, ‘I’m glad you find the situation so amusing.’
I whizzed round so fast my head nearly flew off.
There on the garden bench beside me, washing his paws slowly and carefully large as life and twice as kitten-like, was Kaboodle.
‘Ka-ka-ka.’ I stammered. No other noise would come out. I was sure all the blood had drained right out of me.
‘Is that all you’re going to say? I thought you might be pleased to see me You two were making enough fuss a moment ago when you thought I’d disappeared for good.’
‘Ka-ka-ka . . .’
Hmm. She was getting really carried away now.
‘Look – what about this?’ She showed me what she’d sketched out:
‘What does “RIP” mean?’ I asked.
‘“Really Important Person”; you always find it on gravestones and so on to show how important that person was to their family,’ Jazz said, her eyes shining with
enthusiasm.
‘Shouldn’t we put RIC, then?’ I said.
‘Eh?’
‘You know, Really Important Cat?’ I insisted. A voice in my head was saying, ‘I cannot believe you are even having this conversation.’
Jazz shook her head. ‘No, no. It’s always RIP . We can pretend in this case that it stands for Really Important Pet, if that helps?’
Jazz always has an answer for everything.
‘Do we have to sing “Memory” from Cats ?’ I asked, feeling very squirmy at the thought. I seemed to remember that the music went very high and screechy and I
didn’t think I’d be able to reach the top notes. And what if Pinkella’s next-door neighbours heard and wanted to know what we were doing?Then the cat really would be out of the
bag. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
But then I noticed that Jazz had put on one of her huffy faces so I said quickly, ‘Actually, I think it’s going to be fab – don’t listen to me.’
At last Jazz agreed that we had done enough preparation and that we could go ahead with the service. I think the fact that I kept glancing at my watch and pacing up and down had something to do
with it.
‘Dearly beloved . . .’ she began in a droning, deep voice. She sounded like she was a grey and wrinkly ninety-year-old priest instead of my best friend. We ird bubbles of
inappropriate laughter started to fizz up inside my nose.
‘We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of our much-loved brother Kaboodle—’
‘ Brother? ’ I squeaked. ‘But he’s a kitten!’
Jazz shot me a dirty look and carried on: ‘. . . much-loved brother, Kaboodle the kitten . Kaboodle was a kitten above all others. He will be sorely missed. In his memory, we will
now sing the song printed on the order of service.’
And then, solemn as anything, she started to sing, ‘ Mem-ry, not a sound from the pave-ment . . .’
I couldn’t help it, the laughter just burst out. You couldn’t blame me. She sounded how I imagined Kaboodle would if he’d got his tail trapped in a door, or if Pinkella had
stepped on him by accident in her high-heeled spiky pink shoes.
Very soon I was howling. I just couldn’t stop. I had to sit down on the bench, otherwise I would have fallen over.
Jazz was furious. ‘Thanks for nothing!’ she ye lled at me. ‘I was only trying to make you feel better. Isn’t that what mates are for?’ And when in response I shook
my head with silent laughter, trying in vain to get my breath back, she spun on the heel of her trainers and marched out of the garden, leaving me there, gasping for breath.
Deep down inside I felt one hundred per cent horrendous for laughing at Jazz like that. But it was no good. I had got to that stage of laughing when you are panting hard, trying to get your
breath back while vaguely hoping you are not going to be sick. I had lost control of every one of my senses. The sight of Jazz flouncing off in a huff just made it worse. I wiped the tears from my
eyes and struggled to get up from the bench, and was just about to call out to her when a smooth, suave voice beside me said, ‘I’m glad you find the situation so amusing.’
I whizzed round so fast my head nearly flew off.
There on the garden bench beside me, washing his paws slowly and carefully large as life and twice as kitten-like, was Kaboodle.
‘Ka-ka-ka.’ I stammered. No other noise would come out. I was sure all the blood had drained right out of me.
‘Is that all you’re going to say? I thought you might be pleased to see me You two were making enough fuss a moment ago when you thought I’d disappeared for good.’
‘Ka-ka-ka . . .’
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