Victoria Cat and catflapjack



  VICTORIA, CAT

  AND

  CATFLAPJACK

  David Elvar

  Copyright 2010 David Elvar

  ~oOo~

  Cat checked over his ingredients one last time. They all seemed to be there—butter, oats, honey and sugar. And the things needed to mix them up and cook them—bowl, mixer and oven. He needed just one more ingredient and he could get started, and she, as usual, was missing. He was just beginning to wonder how much longer she would be when he heard a voice—

  ‘You were looking for me?’

  —and he glanced up to see her strolling towards him.

  ‘I was indeed looking for you,’ he said. ‘You’re just in time to help me with my latest invention.’

  Victoria looked suddenly horrified. ‘Another one?’ she said. ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘What do you mean Oh dear? Not all my inventions go wrong.’

  ‘No, not all of them,’ she agreed. ‘But those that do really do.’

  ‘If you’re referring to my last one,’ said Cat, ‘that wasn’t my fault! The instructions on the dynamite were all wrong.’

  ‘I’m sure they were,’ said Victoria.

  ‘And that rabbit always said he wanted to fly.’

  ‘I’m sure he did.’

  ‘And that patch of grass is starting to grow again, isn’t it?’

  ‘Only just,’ said Victoria. ‘So what’s this new invention? And why do you need my help?’

  ‘Well, it has something to do with cooking,’ said Cat, ‘and—’

  ‘—and you need someone to pour out all the ingredients and do the mixing and stuff because I have hands and you only have paws,’ Victoria finished for him.

  ‘They’re very elegant,’ he said, holding them up for her to admire. ‘Just not very practical.’

  ‘Well,’ she sighed, ‘I suppose someone’s got to keep you out of trouble when you’re inventing. What is it you want me to do?’

  ‘Lots of things, but first, you have to put one of these on.’

  He shoved a strange-looking white hat towards her. It was tall with a slightly squashed top, and looked a bit like a chimney with a bird’s nest perched on it.

  ‘All chefs have to wear one before they start cooking,’ he added.

  ‘Really?’ said Victoria, eyeing it curiously. ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know for certain,’ said Cat. ‘I expect it’s to stop whatever they’re cooking splashing onto their hair and messing it up.’

  ‘Ah. Right. Makes sense.’

  She picked it up and placed it carefully over her hair. But because he had paws and not hands, Cat could only tip his on its side and try to force his head into it. He grunted and shoved and twisted and turned and when he looked up again, it was bent and crooked and did not look at all elegant, but at least it was on.

  ‘So,’ she said, ‘what is it we’re supposed to be inventing?’

  ‘Ah, well, this is the clever part,’ said Cat. ‘I take it you’ve heard of catflaps.’

  ‘I have,’ said Victoria.

  ‘And you’ve heard of flapjack.’

  ‘I have,’ said Victoria.

  ‘Well, this is something new,’ said Cat proudly. ‘This is catflapjack,’

  ‘Catflapjack,’ Victoria repeated slowly. ‘And what exactly is catflapjack?’

  ‘Just what it says,’ said Cat. ‘A catflap made out of flapjack.’

  ‘I see,’ Victoria said uncertainly. ‘And you want me to help you make this catflapjack so that you can fit it to a door.’

  ‘Absolutely! Good idea, isn’t it?’

  ‘Hmm.’ Victoria took a moment to glance round. It was an interesting idea, if not exactly what she would call good, but interesting or good, there seemed to be just one tiny flaw in it. ‘I hate to say this,’ she said, ‘but I don’t actually see any doors around here for you to fit it to.’

  ‘I’ve already thought of that,’ said Cat, and he darted behind a tree. Then he was nosing one out from behind it, a big wooden door with a big square hole in the bottom just waiting for a catflap to be fitted.

  Victoria looked it up and down. It didn’t seem to go from anywhere to anywhere, it was just a door, was just standing there doing nothing. And as she looked it up and down, she could see another tiny flaw in his interesting idea.

  ‘Why don’t you just walk round it?’ she asked.

  ‘Just make my invention,’ said Cat wearily. ‘All will be revealed.’

  They made a start, Cat telling her what to do, Victoria doing all the work.

  ‘First, tip the butter into the bowl...’ said Cat.

  Victoria tipped the butter into the bowl.

  ‘...then add the sugar...’

  She added the sugar.

  ‘...then the honey...’

  She added the honey.

  ‘...and last and most importantly, pour in the oats,’ said Cat.

  Victoria poured in the oats. She looked down at the gooey mess in the bottom of the bowl. It did not look much like a clever invention at this stage.

  ‘What do we do with it now?’ she asked.

  ‘We mix it,’ said Cat. ‘And for that, I have this latest high-tech laser-guided computer-controlled electric mixer.’

  ‘Impressive,’ said Victoria, looking at it uncertainly. ‘How does it work?’

  ‘You just switch it on and lower it into the mixture. How else?’

  Victoria picked it up and switched it on. It made a loud whizzing noise and the mixer blades seemed to be spinning awfully fast. It also seemed to have a mind of its own, twisting and turning itself in her hands as though trying to escape her grip.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ she shouted as she struggled to control it.

  ‘Just lower it into the bowl,’ Cat shouted back. ‘It’ll be all right.’

  Victoria lowered it into the bowl. As the mixer blades hit the mixture, it splattered up the sides of the bowl and was suddenly no longer in the bowl. Victoria looked up to see where it had gone. She did not have to look far.

  ‘That went well, didn’t it,’ said Cat through a faceful of decidedly unmixed clever invention.

  ‘Maybe I should use a spoon,’ said Victoria, reaching for a towel and trying hard not to laugh.

  ‘Yes, maybe you should,’ said Cat. ‘But after you’ve cleaned me up, please.’

  Victoria cleaned him up, rubbing the towel over his face to remove the worst of the mixture. Soon, she could see the faintly annoyed expression she’d come to know and sort of love.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Cat.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she said.

  ‘You know,’ he said, flicking a long pink tongue over his whiskers to clean the last of it away, ‘that actually tasted really rather good.’

  ‘I’m glad. I take it you want me to make some more, then.’

  ‘Oh yes. Most definitely.’

  She poured more ingredients into the bowl—butter, oats, honey and sugar—took a spoon and began to stir again. But not quickly. Just to be on the safe side.

  ‘So why do you call it catflapjack?’ she said as she stirred. ‘Since it’s a piece of flapjack being used as a catflap, shouldn’t it be flapjack-catflap?’

  ‘It should,’ said Cat, ‘but you try saying it over and over again.’

  ‘Okay. Flapjack-catflap, flapjack-catflap, flapflap-catback, flapflip...flop...flup...er...’

  ‘You see?’ said Cat. ‘You get only so far and your tongue starts tripping over itself.’

  ‘Yes, I do see,’ said Victoria. ‘We could have some fun, though. Our tongues could end up tripping over some pretty interesting new names. How about flip-flop flat-top?’

  ‘Yes, very amusing,’ said Cat.

 
‘Or hip-hop top-hat.’

  ‘Just stir the mixture,’ said Cat.

  ‘Or even tip-top fat-cat?’

  ‘Are you suggesting something?’ said Cat.

  ‘You know,’ said Victoria, ‘now I stop to think about it, I don’t see why anyone would want to say flapjack-catflap over and over again in the first place.’

  ‘Look, I have to pass the time around here somehow,’ said Cat. ‘Have you finished stirring that mixture yet?’

  She stopped stirring to look in the bowl. It looked a little less gooey but still very much a mess. ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘What do we do with it now?’

  ‘We cook it,’ said Cat. ‘Pour it into this baking-tray.’

  ‘Is that high-tech and laser-thingy, too?’ said Victoria warily.

  ‘Don’t be silly. Just pour the mixture.’

  Victoria poured it into the baking-tray.

  ‘Then put the baking-tray in the oven.’

  She put the baking-tray in the oven.

  ‘And turn the oven on.’

  She turned the oven on.

  ‘And now we wait for it to cook,’ said Cat.

  They waited for it to cook, and while they waited, Victoria asked him something, something about this new invention that had been bothering her all along.

  ‘So what made you come up with this crazy catflapjack idea in the first place?’

  ‘Crazy!’ said Cat. ‘It’s not crazy, it’s brilliant! Why, with this invention, I can get my own back on cat owners everywhere!’

  ‘Cat owners! Why, what have they done to annoy you?’

  ‘Catflaps—that’s what!’ said Cat. ‘Expecting us to squeeze our whiskers past a piece of wood hanging loose in the door, indeed! So undignified! Don’t know why they don’t just open the door for us whenever we want to come in.’

  ‘And you plan to squeeze your whiskers past this catflapjack instead.’

  ‘Er…not exactly,’ said Cat. ‘Is it cooked yet?’

  Victoria looked in the oven. It looked done. In fact, it looked rather eatable, if she did say so herself.

  ‘I think so,’ she said.

  ‘Then take it out and let it cool,’ said Cat.

  Victoria took it out and set it on top of the oven. It glistened golden brown in its baking-tray and smelt really rather good, and she felt a sudden rumbling deep inside, like something down there was asking her to feed it.

  ‘May I try a piece?’ she said.

  ‘No you may not!’ Cat said firmly. ‘My latest and greatest invention and you want to eat it?’

  ‘Sorry. So what are we supposed to do with it?’

  ‘It should have cooled enough by now,’ said Cat. ‘Just turn it out and I’ll show you. But be careful, it’s got to be in one piece.’

  Victoria turned it out onto a plate. Carefully, as Cat had said. And in one piece. As Cat had said.

  ‘Now clip it into place on the door,’ he said, ‘right where that square hole is.’

  Victoria clipped it into place on the door. ‘Why is it called flapjack?’ she said. ‘I’ve often wondered.’

  ‘I imagine it was invented by someone called Jack who wanted to get through something,’ said Cat. ‘Is it ready yet?’

  ‘It’s ready.’ She stepped back to admire her handiwork. ‘But I still don’t see what makes it such a clever invention.’

  ‘You will,’ said Cat, licking his lips. ‘You will.’

  He stepped forward and butted the flap with his head. It swung back. Then it swung towards him again. And as it swung towards him, he took a bite out of it, a large bite.

  ‘Ah, I see,’ said Victoria, beginning to understand. ‘So that’s what this is all about.’

  ‘Did you really think I just wanted to do something ordinary like get from one side of a door to the other?’ said Cat. He butted the flap again. It swung again and swung back again. He took a bite again.

  ‘Any self-respecting moggy can do that, but this—’ He butted it a third time and took a third bite. ‘—this takes genius.’

  Now there was only one piece left hanging, a single corner of his clever invention catflapjack.

  ‘After all, if you have to do something, you might as well find a way to enjoy doing it,’ he said, and he butted the last corner, took the last bite and walked through the door. Then he stopped, turned round, looked at Victoria and said, ‘I want to get back again. Can you make another one, please?’

  ‘You know,’ sighed Victoria as she reached for the bowl, ‘this could go on all afternoon.’

  ‘Why, thank you!’ said Cat. ‘I was hoping you’d say that...’

  ~oOo~