In Chapter 4 of Diary of the Killer Cat, narrated by Lois Letchford, the cat recounts the chaotic episode of bringing a large, dead rabbit named Thumper through a tiny cat flap. The cat describes the arduous effort of getting the rabbit inside, the family's horrified reaction, and the subsequent washing and blow‑drying ritual performed by Ellie’s parents. The narrative captures the cat’s frustration at being blamed, the family's frantic attempts to clean the rabbit, and the cat’s sense of powerlessness as the humans decide what to do with the corpse. The chapter blends dark humor with vivid domestic details, highlighting themes of responsibility, guilt, and the absurdity of a cat being held accountable for a dead rabbit.
Chapters
Diary of the Killer Cat, Chapter 4. Thursday. Okay, okay, I'll try and explain about the rabbit. For starters, I don't think anyone's given me enough credit for getting it through the cat door. That was not easy, I can tell you. It took about an hour to get the rabbit through that little hole. That rabbit was downright fat. It was more like a pig than a rabbit, if you want my opinion. Not that any of them cared what I thought. They were going mental! Oh, it's Thumper! cried Ellie. It's next door's Thumper! Oh, lordy! said Ellie's father. Now we're in trouble! What are we going to do? Ellie's mother stared at me. How could a cat do that? she asked. I mean, it's not like a tiny bird or a mouse or anything. The rabbit is the same size as Tuffy. They both weigh a tonne. Nice, very nice. This is my family, I'll have you know. Well, Ellie's family, but you get my point. And Ellie, of course, freaked out. She went berserk. It's horrible! she cried. Horrible! I can't believe that Tuffy could have done that. Thump has been next Sure, Thumper was a friend. I knew him well. She turned on me! Tuffy, this is the end! That poor, poor rabbit! Look at him! And Thumper did look a bit of a mess, I admit it. I mean, most of it was only mud and a few grass stains, I suppose. And there were quite a few bits of twig and stuff stuck in his fur, and he had a streak of oil on one ear. But no one gets dragged the whole way across the garden and through the hedge and over another garden and through a freshly oiled cat flap and ends up looking as if he's just off to a party. And Thumper didn't care what he looked like. He was dead! The rest of them minded, though. They minded a lot. What are we going to do? Oh, this is dreadful! Next Door will never speak to us again! We must think of something. And they did. I have to say, it was a brilliant plan by any standard. First, Ellie's father fetched the bucket again and filled it with warm soapy water. He gave me a bit of a look as he did this, trying to make me feel guilty for the fact that he'd had to dip his hands in soap suds twice in one week. I just gave him my I am not impressed. Stare back! Then Ellie's mother dunked Thumper in the bucket and gave him a nice bubble wash and rinse. The water turned a pretty nasty brown colour— all that mud. And then, glaring at me as if it were all my fault, they tipped it down the sink and began all over again with fresh soap suds. Ellie was snivelling. Of course. Stop that, Ellie! her mother said. It's getting on my nerves. If you want to do something useful, go and fetch the blow dryer. So Ellie trailed upstairs, still bawling her eyes out. I sat on the top of the dresser, watching them. They upended poor Thumper and dunked him again in the bucket. Good thing he wasn't his old self. He'd have hated all that washing! And when the water finally ran clear, they pulled him out and drained him. Then they plonked him on the newspaper and gave Ellie the blow-dryer. There you go, they said. Fluff him up nicely. Well, she got right into it! I can tell you that Ellie could grow up to be a hotshot hairdresser, the way she fluffed him up. I have to say, I never Thor Thumper looked so nice before, and he's lived next door's hut for years and years, and I saw him every day. Hiya, Thump! I'd sort of nod at him as I strolled over the lawn to check out what was left in the feeding bowl further down the avenue. Hiya, Tuff! He'd sort of twitch back. Yes, we were good buddies. We were pals, so it was really nice to see him looking so spruced up and smart when Ellie had finished with him. He looked good. What now? said Ellie's father. Ellie's mother gave him a look, the sort of look she sometimes gives me, only nicer. Oh, no! Not me! Oh, no, no, no, no, no! It's you or me, she said, and I can't go, can I? Why not? he asked. You're smaller than I am. You can crawl through the hedge easier. That's when I realised what they had in mind. But what could I say? What could I do to stop them? To explain? Nothing. I'm just a cat. I sat and watched.
