Mrs. Ticklebottom and the Cat Salon

“Good morning!” said Mrs. Ticklebottom enthusiastically.  And a good morning it was too.  Mrs Ticklebottom had just walked into her tiny kitchen to find one of her five cats had made her breakfast.

“Top of the morning to you, Mrs. Ticklebottom.  I have made you some tea and toast” said Puss in his stiff-upper-lip British accent.  “Would you like some scrumptious strawberry jam to go with your toast?”

“Oh, yes please, Puss!”  said Mrs. Ticklebottom.  Puss sat beside Mrs. Ticklebottom on the kitchen table, and he received a gentle scratch to the sensitive part of his ear as a thank you for making breakfast.  “Thank you, Puss.  That was lovely” said Mrs. Ticklebottom gratefully. “You are always so kind to me”.

“My pleasure, madam” replied Puss.

Later that morning, Mrs. Ticklebottom was walking down to the bakery when she spotted a plane overhead.  “I wish I was on that plane” she thought, “whisking me off to some sunny island somewhere in the Mediterranean”.  As she walked on, she reminisced about her previous holidays abroad; drinking lemonade at the pool side, basking in the warm glow of the sun.  A thought quickly came to her of the time when was stung by a jellyfish on her left ankle whilst having a leisurely stroll along the shallow waters of the beautiful beach.  What an awful time that was.  A local boy had to urinate on her ankle to dull the pain.  “On second thought, I’m quite happy at home with my cats.” She laughed quietly to herself.

Mrs. Ticklebottom soon arrived at the bakery where the baker already had her order waiting for her.  “The usual is it, Mrs. Ticklebottom?” said the baker, sounding rather pleased with himself for remembering her usual order.  “The usual indeed” replied Mrs. Ticklebottom.  “That’ll be £21.36 please” the baker requested “Thanks love, see you next week” he said.

She left the baker shop and carried on walking down towards the busy high street when she noticed a new shop had opened up.  ‘Mr. Fuzzyboots’ Feline Nail Salon and Spa’.

“Oh, how curious” thought Mrs. Ticklebottom as she approached the shop.

As she opened the door, a chime rang out which sounded curiously like a ‘meow’.  The inside of the salon was a beautiful sight to behold.  The walls were painted in a soft pink, with mirrors placed symmetrically throughout; over in the waiting area are 5 oval shaped beds, a 3ft tall climbing tower, a scratch post, and several wind-up mice to chase.  The ceiling has 2 chandeliers placed evenly apart and the floor has cream coloured tiles.

There is a row of 3 cat-sized chairs facing a cat-sized table, with 3 more cat-sized chairs on the opposite side.  In one of the chairs sat a fluffy pink cat trimming the nails of a fluffy black cat on the opposite side of the table.  In the far-left corner there is a reclined chair and a paw stool where another ginger cat was having her paws massaged by a short-haired grey cat.

“Good morning, welcome to Mr. Fuzzyboots’ Feline Nail Salon and Spa” said a gorgeous ginger tomcat. “My name is Mr. Fuzzyboots, and how may I be of assistance?”.

Mr Fuzzyboots didn’t have a single hair out of place, he is perfectly groomed and has hypnotic emerald green eyes.  His fur is completely ginger except for a spot of snow white on the tip of his tail.

“I was just passing by and I noticed your nail salon.  I have 5 cats of my own and I’m sure they would be delighted to pay a visit to your salon” explained Mrs. Ticklebottom.

“How wonderful!” said Mr. Fuzzyboots, excitedly.  “Why don’t you bring them in for a visit, we’re having an opening sale; all treatments are 80% off until Friday”.

Mrs. Ticklebottom didn’t have much of her weekly pension money left, so she thought about which of her cats would be most deserving of a visit to the salon.

“I know” she thought.  “I’ll bring Puss with me; he deserves a nice treat for always looking after me.  It would be the least I could do for him”.

“Splendid, splendid… let me see here…” said Mr Fuzzyboots, curiously.  “Ah yes.  We are quite full up at the moment I could possibly squeeze you in at 10:30 tomorrow morning.  How does that sound?”

“Wonderful, I’ll see you then, Mr. Fuzzyboots!” said Mrs. Ticklebottom.

‘meow’ the door chimed as she left the salon.

 

Death

Death is seen by many as a loss.  A loss of life, and the loss of everything you ever were or ever will be.

It is less known that Death is a sentient being whose purpose is to collect the souls of the living, and to hand that soul on to the next generation.

The soul carries with it fragments of it’s previous host; likes and dislikes, hopes and dreams, faiths and desires.  It is the foundation of the new generation to build upon.

Death, although few have seen him, has the appearance of an elderly man with shoulder-length snow white hair.  His complexion is pale and bony, with wrinkles on every inch of skin and his hands are as cold as ice.  He wears a black pinstripe suit, a matching Fedora hat and has black laced up shoes which are so shiny they reflect the light.