“Gemma, I know you don’t want to hear this, but kindness does work, the humans are nice and the crows are friendly. I am going to make friends with Holly the Hamster and Rufus the Squirrel too, because I believe that’s how life should be lived, not in some hate-filled red mist.”
With that I padded up the stairs and went to sit with the humans who were both reading books. Marika’s book was a recipe for something called Red Thai Curry. Julian was reading Brighton Rock by Graham Greene. I had not slept on this book yet so I looked on the shelves and found about a dozen of Mr Greene’s books together. They weren’t as wide as Charles’s and Jane’s books combined, so I would have to curl up on top of Graham’s books to make a comfortable sleeping place. The problems cats have. I settled close to Julian’s left ear on the back of the sofa and started to read about PInkie and his exploits. Julian was a slow reader compared to me and I found myself drifting off into a very pleasant sleep.
Chapter 3 – Today
Well, it’s the next day again, which is still today. How confusing is that? I woke up to find myself still on the sofa, but the book had gone. I wanted to read what happened next, but the book wasn’t on the shelf where it should have been, if everything was done in a neat and orderly fashion. What is the world coming to? Surely Mr Graham Greene’s books should all be together for company? Why orphan a perfectly good book like that? Then I noticed the living room door was closed. I couldn’t go and have my breakfast and I couldn’t use the litter tray. This isn’t good, I thought, this isn’t good.
My mum used to tell me to make the most of my time and not to mope if things didn’t appear to be going my way. I remembered those words as I sat trying to open the door of the lounge with my paw. There wasn’t enough room for me to insert anything under the door, so I resolved to make better use of my time. I hoped to visit more of the library and find some interesting books on philosophy, religion, ancient history, and geography. However, what I should do first is inspect the bookshelves here in my new abode to see what I could read here, as long as I can remove the books from the shelf without knocking off any of the ornaments that are in the way.
I jump on to the back of the sofa and start my inspection. Charles’s and Jane’s books I already know about. And Graham’s too. There are two long shelves of Agatha Christie, about 75 books in all. I see they are mystery books featuring detectives called Poirot and Marple. I have never read a detective book before and it’s a mystery why that is, but I resolve to start soon – perhaps I will start with Cat amongst the Pigeons because there should be at least one character I can identify with.
On another shelf are twelve books by Eric Ambler who wrote thrillers according to the blurb on the back of his books. Most of them are set just before WWII when the world was even more dangerous than it is today. A few isolated titles by Daniel Defoe, George Eliot, Jonathan Swift, and three different types of Bronte complete the bookshelf.
Julian Worker Fiction Writing 