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Fearless Fatty and the Sky Noises.



"Fatty; doesn't like noises"
Fatty sits underneath a parked car in silence; his twitching nuzzle slightly peering out from the shadows, beneath his alight eyes. He is scared, very scared. Even though the chubby moggy and I have had our differences; as in me forgetting he is master and ruler of the universe, and him reminding me of this fact. At this moment in time, he looks at me standing across the road like a long lost friend, ready to provide him reassurance; telling me he is tired of war, and just wants to be buds again...

It is a dark, bitter Saturday evening, and Hindus across the globe are celebrating Diwali; a religious festival of light. Being a festival of light, and living in an area of London containing a mass Indian population, this leaves the sky at night lost to the mercy of fireworks; armies of booming, noisy, colourful fireworks. As bold as Fatty is, and even though he is too proud to openly admit it, he is scared to death of sky noises; the cat world believe it symbolizes a global invasion of birds, pigeons, hawks, and other natural enemies of our moggy friends.

Cats are peaceful, meditative creatures. The only noises they enjoy are the sounds of tins opening, car engines stopping on a cold winter’s day, and the giggles they omit when watching doggies fall on their bottoms. Every October, the unwelcoming sight of explosions in the sky make Fatty so afraid, he hides under a dormant car; preying to the cat gods for sanctity. As smart as he is, the only knowledge he carries about the sky, is how the moon is made of cheese, stars are tributes to the fallen felines of history, and that the bright hot orangy thing in the daytime makes him want to endulge in a well-earned snooze-athon.

I slowly walk over to Fatty; who is still cautious with me, but doesn't back away. I lean down and explain the meaning behind the noises, then tell him he should go home when all is quiet, get some noms, and have a cozy rest in his favourite sitting place. Tomorrow, I tell him, there will be more sky noises, then that is it for another year. He seems reassured, but also a little disappointed the fireworks have nothing to do with his holiness; unconvinced hoomans can actually enjoy tasks, that don't involve moggies in some capacity.

Fatty slowly crawls from underneath the car, and I give him a long collection of affectionate, loving strokes; followed by a few more reassurances. A few minutes later, and after a particularly loud boom in the distance, he slides back under; only this time, a little safer, and more relaxed The next night I peer outside to a heavy downpour of consistent rain; washing away all chance of sky noises. While I feel sympathy for the Indian community and their families, I am also happy for Fatty; knowing he wont have to be scared tonight.

That and the fact I believe we are buds again…

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