In this narrated excerpt from Chapter 7 of Diary of the Killer Cat, the feline protagonist recounts a chaotic Saturday morning that spirals into a trip to the veterinarian for the family’s cat, Tuffy. The cat laments the early‑morning fuss, the missing purse, and the endless list of errands, while observing Ellie carving a gravestone for the family rabbit, Thumper. The narrative weaves together the family’s emotional reactions—Ellie’s tears, her parents’ practical concerns, and the nosy neighbor “Next Door”—with the cat’s own sarcastic, self‑aware commentary. At the vet, the cat endures a cramped wire cage, a rabies shot, and a series of misunderstandings that lead to rude behavior toward other animals and the staff. After the appointment, the family discovers that a bag of cat food has spilled, prompting a frantic chase. The story then shifts to recount Thumper’s death, funeral, and a bizarre “resurrection” that the family interprets as a clever ruse, further fueling the cat’s resentment and sense of being unfairly blamed. Throughout, the cat’s internal monologue mixes humor, indignation, and a begrudging acknowledgment of its own “killer” reputation, while highlighting the dynamics among Ellie, her parents, the neighbor, and the various pets.
Chapters
Diary of the Killer Cat. Chapter 7. Saturday. I hate Saturday morning. It's so unsettling. All that fussing and door banging and, have we got the purse? And, where's the shopping list? And, do we need cat food? Of course we need cat food! What else am I supposed to eat all week? Air? They were all pretty quiet today, though. Ellie was sitting at the table carving Thumper a rather nice gravestone out of half a leftover cork tile. It said, Thumper, rest in peace. You mustn't take it round next door yet, her father warned. Not till they've told us that Thumper's dead, at any rate. Some people are born soft and soppy. Her eyes brimmed with tears. There goes Next Door now, Ellie's mother said, looking out of the window. Which way is she headed? Toward town. Good. If we keep well behind her, we can get Tuffy to the vets without bumping into her. Tuffy? Vets? Ellie was even more horrified than I was. She threw herself at her father, beating him with her soft little fists. Dad, no, you can't! I put up a far better fight with my claws, but when he finally pried me out of the dark of the cupboard under the sink, his sweater was ruined and his hands were scratched and bleeding all over. He wasn't very pleased about it. Come out of there, you great furry psychopath! It's only a rabies shot you're scheduled for, I'm sorry to say. Would you have believed him? I wasn't absolutely sure. Neither was Ellie, so she tagged along. I was still quite suspicious When we reached the vets. That's the only reason why I spat at the girl behind the desk. There was no reason on earth to write handle with care at the top of my chart. Even the Thompsons' Rottweiler doesn't have handle with care written on the top of his chart. What's wrong with me? So I was a little rude in the waiting room. So what? I hate waiting, and I especially hate waiting in a wire cat cage. It's cramped, it's hot, and it's boring. After a few hundred minutes of sitting there quietly, anyone would start teasing their neighbour. I didn't mean to frighten that sick little baby gerbil half to death. I was only looking at it. It's a free country, isn't it? Can't a cat even look at a sweet little baby gerbil? And if I was licking my lips, which I wasn't, that's only because I was thirsty. Honestly, I wasn't trying to pretend I was going to eat it. The trouble with baby gerbils is they can't take a joke. And neither can anyone else around here. Ellie's father looked up from the pamphlet he was reading called Your Pet and Worms. Oh, nice, very nice. Turn the cage around the other way, Ellie, he said. Ellie turned my cage around the other way. Now I was looking at the Fisher's Terrier from down the street. And if there's any animal in the world who ought to have handle with care written at the top of his charts, it's the Fisher's Terrier. Okay. So I hissed at it. But it was only a little hiss. You practically had to have bionic ears to hear it. And I did growl a bit. But you'd think he'd have the head start on growling. He is a dog, after all. I'm only a cat. And yes, okay, I spat a bit. But only a bit. Nothing you'd even notice unless you were waiting to pick on someone. Well, how was I to know he wasn't feeling very well? But not everyone waiting for the vet is ill. I wasn't ill, was I? Actually, I've never been ill in my life. I don't even know what it feels like. But I reckon, even if I were dying, some furry locked in a cage could make an itsy-whitsy noise at me without my ending up whimpering and cowering and scrabbling to get under the seat to hide behind the knees of my owner. More a chicken than a Scottish Terrier, if you want my opinion. Could you please keep that vile cat of yours under control? Mrs Fisher said nastily. Ellie stuck up for me. He's in a cage! He's still scaring half the animals here to death! Can't you cover him up or something? Ellie was going to keep arguing, I could tell, but without even looking up from his worm pamphlet, her father just dropped his raincoat over my cage as if I were some mangy old parrot Or something, and everything went black. And no wonder, by the time the vet came at me with her nasty long needle, I wasn't in the sweetest mood. I didn't mean to scratch her that badly, though. Or smash all those little glass bottles. Or tip over the expensive new cat scales off the exam table. Or spill all that cleaning fluid. But it wasn't me who ripped up my chart into those tiny pieces. That was the vet. And when we left, Ellie was in tears again. Some people are just born soft. She hugged my cage tightly to her chest. Oh, Tuffy, until we find a new vet who'll promise to look after you, You must be so careful not to get run over! Fat chance, her father muttered. I was just glowering at him through the wire cage when he spotted Ellie's mother standing knee-deep in shopping bags outside the supermarket. You're very late, she scolded. Was there a bit of trouble at the vet's? Ellie burst into tears. I mean, talk about a wimp! But her father is made of certainer stuff. He'd just taken the hugest breath, ready to snitch on me, when suddenly he let it out again. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted trouble of another sort. Quick! he whispered. Next door is just coming through the checkout. He picked up half the shopping bags. Ellie's mother picked up the rest. But before we could get away, Next-door had come through the glass doors, so now all 4 of them were forced to chat. Morning! said Ellie's father. Morning! said Next-door. Nice day! said Ellie's father. Lovely! agreed Next-door. Nicer than yesterday! said Ellie's mother. Oh yes, Next Door said. Yesterday was horrible! She probably just meant the weather, for heaven's sake, but Ellie's eyes filled with tears. I don't know why she was so fond of Trump Thumper. I'm the one who's supposed to be her pet, not him! And because she couldn't see where she was going anymore, she bumped into her mother and half the Tins of cat food fell out of one of the shopping bags and rolled off down the street. Ellie put down my cage and chased off after them. Then she made the mistake of reading the labels. Oh no! she wailed. Rabbit chunks! Really, that child is such a drip. She'd never make it in our gang. She wouldn't last a week. Talking about rabbits, The most extraordinary thing happened at our house! Really? said Ellie's father, glaring at me. Oh yes! said Ellie's mother, glaring at me as well. Yes! said Next Door. On Monday, poor Thump a little bit sickly, so we brought him inside, and on Tuesday he was worse, And on Wednesday he died. He was terribly old and he'd had a happy life, so we didn't feel too bad about it. In fact, we had a little funeral and buried him in a box at the bottom of the garden. I'm staring up at the clouds now, and on Thursday he's gone. Gone? Gone. Yes, gone. And all that was left of him was a hole in the ground and an empty box. Really? Good heavens! Ellie's father was giving me the most suspicious look. And then yesterday, next door went on, something even more extraordinary happened. Thumper was back again, all fluffed up nicely and back in his hutch. Back in his hutch, you say? Fluffed up nicely? How strange! And you have to hand it to them, they're good actors. They kept it up all the way home. What an amazing story! How How on earth could it have happened? Quite astonishing, so strange! Till we were safely through the front door, and then, of course, the pair of them turned on me. Deceitful creature, making us think you'd killed him, just pretending all along! I knew that cat couldn't have done it. The rabbit was even fatter than he is. You'd have thought they all wanted me to have murdered old Thumper. All except Ellie, of course. She's so sweet. Don't you dare pick on Tuffy, she told them. You leave him alone. I bet he didn't even dig poor Thumper up. I bet it was that fish's Nasty, vicious terrier who did that. All Tuffy did was bring Thumper back to us so we could make sure he was buried again properly. He's a hero, a kind and thoughtful hero. She gave me a big soft squeeze. Isn't that right, Tuffy? I'm saying nothing. I'm a cat. So I just sat and watched while they unnailed the cat door. Thank you. Enjoy and share.
