a royal disappointment
tiger was obviously ill. i'd first noticed during the ladybird farm project, a delicate operation involving over 20 ladybirds and a tupperware box. i'd glimpsed tiger catching some rays in his usual spot on the dustbin lid and i decided to take a break from the ladybirds to check on him. tiger was two cats. indoors, he was an amiable, affectionate fellow who purred like a tractor and would watch through the living room window for us to come home so he could greet us at the door. outdoors, he was a wild hunter. his pupils became huge, back discs, his whiskers bristled and his tail twitched, and he would never compromise his outdoor missions by acknowledging your presence. but he seemed unusually docile that day. and i knew something was very wrong when i noticed that the ginger tom from down the road was sitting in serene smugness on the garden wall. tiger had always vigorously defended our garden from the ginger tom. their battles in the past were legendary. i looked at tiger, who seemed to be doing his best to pretend he hadn't seen either of us. i knew what i had to do. for whatever reason, my old friend was unable to defend his territory, so i did it for him. i let out a long, warning hiss as i stalked the ginger tom, which i developed into a low growl, becoming louder and louder the closer i got to him. that took the grin of his face. a final crescendo and spread of my arms as i suddenly rushed at him saw him turn tail and run. that day, with a languid sweep of his tail, tiger passed on to me the responsibility of garden security.

when i wasn't farming in the garden, i would defend the garden remotely from the rear facing windows, armed with a collection of stones from the gravel path. a couple of carefully aimed warning shots was usually enough and tiger's retirement was reasonably peaceful. but things took a turn for the worse when he stopped eating his food and the weight fell off him. as he slept in our laps in the evenings, none of us could keep the worry from our faces.

i knew immediately that something was up when my parents told me that grandpa was coming to stay and that he'd be taking me to see the trooping of the colour the next day.
'the trooping of the what?' i'd asked blankly.
'the colour', they repeated inexplicably. 'the queen will be there, it'll fun,' they said. will it, i thought. trooping didn't sound fun. it sounded depressing. and, at the time, i didn't really understand grandpa. he pronounced 'lasagne' the same as 'champagne' and didn't believe that a potato was a vegetable. so i was in a bad mood when i got ready to go the next morning. before we left, i went to say goodbye to tiger.
'see you later, tiger,' i said, rubbing his chin. he smiled at me and purred gently. he was almost asleep when i left him.

what was trooped that day remains something of a mystery, although i was transfixed by the site of hundreds of soldiers marching precisely in unison. it seemed a bit daft and not a very clever way to conduct yourself in battle. if i was planning an attack, i'd do it while they were eyes right. and i couldn't see the queen.
'she's over there, see?' said grandpa, pointing at a crowd of thousands of people.
'oh yes,' i lied.
my legs were hurting, i was sick of standing and i had taken a distinct dislike to the queen.

at last, i was allowed to go home. as i trudged back up our road, i looked for tiger at the living room window. he wasn't there. i felt my heart physically sink. i ran up the steps ahead of grandpa. he took an age to climb up after me, take the keys out and open the door, which i burst through.
'where's tiger?' i demanded to my parents who were sat at the dining room table, facing me and looking guilty.
'tasmania, we have to tell you something about tiger...'

being made to watch a bunch of weirdos march around playing dress up while my cat was taken away and put to death was one of the most disappointing days ever.
(threadkiller, Fri 27 Jun 2008, 18:19, 6 replies)

So sorry mate
Sorry you had to endure that, but your folks were just trying to do what they thought was the best for you.

I am SURE Tiger is in a better place where ginger toms are sent to bother him JUSt so he can indulge in flexing his muscles a bit and defend the garden.
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Fri 27 Jun 2008, 18:35, closed)

you're quite right.
thanks.

i guess, you know, if it were me, i'd keep the kid in the picture. if it's old enough to feed it, it's old enough to know what's going on.

either that, or take it to alton towers.

trooping of the colour? for crying out loud.
(threadkiller, Fri 27 Jun 2008, 18:45, closed)

Well
Frankly, to ME (keeping mind I was a militant patriotic fascist who lay in my bed at night dreaming of storming ramparts with my sword drawn, leading Marines to vanquish my country's foes) trouping of the colors WAS a big deal. :)

Though, I thought David Brent passed judgement on Alton Towers and said it was one of his greatest disappointments!

:)
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Fri 27 Jun 2008, 19:17, closed)

Ouch, painful
I have to say I'd have kept you in the loop, allowed you to say goodbye, and then given you a choice for a fab day out. They didn't mean to hurt you, though. I made my parents feel like murderers when they took my very old rabbit to the vet's. They probably wished that they hadn't told me.
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Fri 27 Jun 2008, 19:21, closed)

I literally cried
and I'm at work. Damn you.
(BrainSurgerysFun, Fri 27 Jun 2008, 19:47, closed)

the thing is
i don't actually want to make people cry. i start off thinking 'i know a funny story' and then a trauma comes out.

it's weird. sorry.
(threadkiller, Fri 27 Jun 2008, 20:32, closed)