I have never so badly wanted to injure an animal as I did the Henderson's cat. The Henderson's are my next door neighbors, who moved into the neighborhood well over three years past. All the houses on this street are exact replicas of the next, although I must say my own house is much nicer than the Henderson's. Alex Henderson is a contractor and when he moved in, had promised his wife Harriet that he would make all the repairs that she requested of him. But alas a promise is no more than a spoken word, and here it was three years after that and the crack in the cement stairs leading to the front door still remains. On how many occasions I have nearly fallen whilst ascending these stairs, I have lost count! Maybe one day I will sue the Henderson's. Or maybe I will just kill their cat for revenge. Ah yes, an even trade I must say.
And now, I know what you must be thinking. You think I am a cruel animal-hating old man, which couldn't be father from the truth. I love animals, all animals in fact, except for this wicked, sinful cat. This cat, this Fluffy they call him, is out to get me and has attempted to do me harm on numerous occasions. Now you are laughing, you say…you think it is funny that I should say such things about a cat? Well, I would not speak it if it were not the truth! Let me tell you from the beginning about this Fluffy.
I purchased my home eight years ago, right after I retired. I am a journalist by trade, but had taken to some part time work as a Personal Assistant for an old man by the name of Bill Pruthers. Pruthers and I got along famously (in fact, he had two cats, both of whom I simply adored!) and then Mr. Pruthers passed away after a long bout of illness. I never knew what was ailing the poor man; he never cared to share his misfortunes. After he passed on, I decided it was about my time to settle down and to take some time to smell the roses. I did a little traveling, saw some interesting places and met some interesting people. My travels were my most precious possession, if that is possible. And when I was done traveling, I went back to my home by myself. I had no children, had never been so fortunate in life. I did marry once, however, to a woman by the name of Helga. Such a putrid name for such a lovely, wonderful woman. Helga passed on herself at a young age. Why twenty-nine is certainly a young age to pass on! Helga was sick, had fallen ill with a womanly type of cancer. Now, medicine is much more advanced, but in the days of Helga's sickness, there was not much that could be done for her. The love of my life passed on in my arms. I never remarried after that.
And after I settled back home and was done with my travels I spent the rest of my days being an old man, set in my ways, though not unfriendly in any way at all. In fact, the neighbors all knew me by name and as he or she would pass by during an after-dinner walk and I would sit on my porch, they would smile and wave and call out to me, “Hello Mister Burton!” and I would smile and wave back.
It was the fall of 1993 that the Henderson's moved in next door. I was eating my breakfast - a bowl of Grape Nuts with sliced strawberries and a glass of Metamucil - and as I watched out the window, a large moving van drove past my house and into the driveway of the next. The van was marked “U Move It” and had yellow and red stripes. The van slowly pulled into the driveway and stopped at the white, somewhat rotted garage door. I stood up and watched from the kitchen window of my house. I was so curious to see who these new people were in my neighborhood! After all, that house next door had been vacant for quite some time! As the drivers' door opened, a man got out of the truck and stepped down onto the gravel driveway. He was a rather small man, compared to myself at least, as I am man of a rather large build. He had black hair and glasses and I saw that he had a slight limp. I made a mental note to myself to inquire about his limp when I introduced myself later, hopefully over a cup of coffee at his house.
