The man entered his home and gasped in shock… Half a year earlier, he’d been given a tiny kitten named Bullet. His niece, who occasionally visited with her family, had found the little one on the street. When she handed over the kitten, she said, “You live alone. Still haven’t found a partner. Your job’s stressful as a bus driver. When you come home, something is waiting happily for you. Cats make a place feel warm and calm…”
Oh, really? So, he believed it. And why not? He thought it might be true. You return home, all frazzled from passengers and drivers who refuse to give way, and there it is—peacefully lounging on the couch. Meowing and purring. Happy to snuggle and be petted.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, he thought that way out of inexperience. The kitten didn’t meet his expectations. He transformed from a well-mannered little thing into a restless teenager. He didn’t like being held or petted, but mischief—anytime!
In his inexperience, the man bought a flyswatter to smack flies with—those tiny, darting things or the big ones inexplicably called horseflies. Bullet watched him swatting flies with great interest, likely collecting information. One day, the cat decided to please his person. And, oh boy, did he…
Now, returning to where we began.
***
The man walked into his home and was stunned. Nothing! Absolutely nothing was where it once was. The destruction suggested that two gangs had decided to have a showdown using baseball bats in his flat!
Chairs were overturned. Vases, glasses, everything once on tables, windowsills, or cupboards now lay scattered, with pieces of glass, clay, and plastic spread across the floor…
Curtains resembled strips from a fashionista’s skirt, and in the kitchen… ketchup mingled with pickled tomatoes and jam. Neat piles of salt, sugar, and pepper were scattered about. Forks and spoons lay in clusters. Kitchen curtains, torn from the poles, were amidst the chaos, and on the now-bare dining table…
Sat an extremely pleased Bullet, with a fly as large as a plane in front of him. Bullet looked at the man with victorious eyes, purring contentedly.
Now’s the moment! The man was sure to praise him. The whole day, tirelessly, Bullet had dashed about, chasing that pesky fly. He was exhausted, but he’d caught it! And now he could present it and receive his well-earned reward. The thought made Bullet knead his paws in excitement.
The man picked up a chair and sat down. Unsure of what to do first—clean up, eat, or scold Bullet—he soon didn’t have to decide, as the doorbell rang. He rose and headed to the entryway, opening the door, only to be even more astounded.
In the hallway stood three police officers, along with about ten neighbors. The officers had their hands resting on their holsters.
“We received a call…” one started.
“Several, actually,” another added. “They said there was something very wrong happening in your flat. Furniture falling, dishes breaking. Odd noises and howling. Could we check to make sure all is well? And you… for safety… raise your hands, cross them on your head, and step into the corner of the room.”
Neighbors eyed the man with fear and reproach.
“Oh… I see,” he said, stepping back and continuing, “Please, come in!”
He moved aside, crossed his hands on his head, and stepped into the corner. The officers moved through the flat, observing the devastation and looking for something, moving from room to room.
“What are you looking for?” the man asked.
“A body,” one officer replied. “And your explanation of this chaos.”
“Ah, a body! I’ll show you the body,” the man responded.
The officers, now on alert, placed their hands on their guns. Carefully, the man shuffled to the kitchen without making sudden moves. Flinging the doors open, he gestured broadly.
“Please,” he announced. “Here’s the body.”
The officers, pushing him aside, stumbled into the kitchen.
The body sat bold as brass on the table, the center of all attention. In front of it lay the fly.
For several seconds, silence reigned as the officers comprehended the scene. Slowly, realization dawned. The officer who’d spoken first began laughing, followed by the others.
They laughed heartily, unable to stop, while Bullet looked around victoriously, seemingly saying, “See? Everyone’s happy. That means my efforts paid off!”
For another half hour, the officers took pictures with the fly and Bullet amidst the mess. Everyone laughed, quite delighted. Above all, Bullet was pleased. His hard work had been appreciated.
***
Once the police and neighbors departed, the man sat on the chair again.
“I can give you a hand,” came a voice, and he turned.
There stood the woman from the ground floor.
“I’m off today,” she smiled. “You’ll be at it till midnight alone, but together we’ll manage quickly.”
“I’m sorry to put you out,” the man said, embarrassed.
“Oh, no trouble!” the woman replied with a smile. “Not at all. I’ve nothing else to do. It’s just me and Mum. Her flat’s nearby. Are you planning to punish that little rascal or at least scold him?” she asked, nodding towards Bullet.
The cat was seated on the kitchen table, tapping a fat fly with his paw.
“Well, scold him…” the man sighed. “I’ll give that a try.”
He approached Bullet, scooping him up gently, “You little scamp! Is that any way to behave? No, it isn’t.”
Bullet kneaded his paws—Dad was scolding him, but so sweetly that he couldn’t resist licking his human’s left cheek, and the man… gave him a peck on the nose.
“Good then. Well done,” he told Bullet. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
And he set the cat back on the floor. Bullet lifted his tail and nudged the woman’s leg. She laughed.
“That was quite an artistic telling-off,” she chuckled. “Why didn’t I see you before?”
“I’m not sure,” the man replied. “Perhaps because I was lonely. But since having Bullet, happiness increased.”
He gestured at the mess Bullseye had caused.
The woman called a trusted handyman, and the next day, they fitted fine, sturdy screens to all the windows. Now, Bullet could lie on the sill and watch birds and large, lazy flies.
Together, the woman and the man tidied up, disposing of broken crockery, washing the floors, and removing torn curtains. They went shopping for new ones.
By evening, they returned with snacks, a scrumptious cake, and a bottle of champagne. You understand, ladies and gents, a little celebration for moving into the old flat. With the woman.
Sitting in the kitchen, they ate, drank, and chatted. Their spirits were high, especially Bullet’s. He lay in the woman’s lap, conspiring… new ways to help Dad.
***
In the end, everything worked out splendidly. And Bullet is, of course, busily assisting the two of them. Dad and the new mum, who’d come into their lives solely because she recognized Bullet as the little guy he’d been.
Now, Mum and Dad tackle the aftermath of Bullet’s ‘help’ together.
What do you make of that?
How else could it be?
That’s just the way it is.
