There was a small knock at the door. I realised that the word 'small' is a strange descriptor for the way in which a door can be knocked upon, but it really is the best way that I can describe it. It was closer to an open palm gently patting the outer surface of a door rather than anything like the substantial, sharp rap that most door-knocks are recognised as and known for.
I wouldn't have even heard what I'm still hesitant to describe as a knock, but I’d been keeping an ear out for a plumber that was scheduled to come by to look at my toilet (and hopefully do more than just look at it). The toilet was giving me some grief, and it is fair to say that I had been giving it just as much grief of late. But rather than correct my diet, I decided that the toilet was the thing that must change.
I opened the front door fully prepared to find that it was just my imagination coming up with a really dull distraction, but to my surprise something had indeed been 'knocking'. Not someone, I must stress, but something.
I'll try to give you my very first impression of what awaited me on the other side of the threshold I had just regrettably opened. Much like its type of knock, the thing was small, about two feet in height. It was covered in fur, stood upright on what appeared to be its hind legs and had its front limbs sort of poised out in front of it, reminiscent of a little T-Rex. The way the creature held itself seemed mostly for balance. It moved back and forth on the spot to remain upright, its long tail flicking from side to side to maintain the clearly unnatural pose it was holding. Its balance may have been made more unsteady by the little tool belt it had slung around its thin waist, which had a number of miniature versions of recognisable tools hanging from loops. A little hammer, a plunger the size of a wooden spoon, you get the idea.
All these things considered, it took me longer than the instant it should have to recognise this animal for what it was: a house cat. But a cat that stood upright on my doorstep, front legs limply held out, tottering in place, wearing a tool-belt, was not something I'd ever seen before to my knowledge. That's when it spoke.
'Oh haiii!' its voice trilled.
I tried to remain composed. I really tried. Instead I slammed the door and rushed into the safety of the laundry nook, where I stood for quite some time, hands on my hips, breathing a little heavily, essentially hiding.
One thing made me walk back cautiously to the front door and open it, and that was the urgent need to take a shit. The cat was still standing there, moving in place.
'Okay. Come on in.'
'Well faanks!'
I led the way to the bathroom, the cat walking along behind me slowly and precariously, still on two legs, its tiny tools clanking on its hips. The tools sounded hollow, like those plastic picnic utensils covered in a reflective stuff that gives them the appearance of metal. I kept looking back at the animal, wondering whether I was hallucinating. The cat looked up at me with wide eyes and an open-mouthed grin that was really unsettling.
The cat got down on all fours and rooted around the back of the toilet, pawing at the pipes as though involved in some delicate procedure. But I could see it was doing nothing of any import, just touching various places softly. I got a glimpse of the cat’s arsehole beneath its tool-belt and looked away.
'Do you know what you're doing back there?'
'Suuure! I'm a perfesh’nal, man.’
'So you are a... plumber?'
'Not yet. Still a 'prentice.'
'What made you... sorry, but you're a cat, right?'
'Yea!'
'So why are you a plumber?'
‘'prentice.'
'Why are you an apprentice?'
‘Bein’ a plumber’s my dream. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere, dude.'
'Right. I guess I'll leave you to it.'
The cat came out soon after and said that he needed to go get a vital plumbing part from somewhere and left. I looked through the window and saw him drive off in a tiny car. He never came back, so rather than clog the toilet again I took a desperate shit in the backyard and buried it.
I called the plumbing company the next day and asked them to explain the cat that had visited my house. The owner of the business went silent.
'Hello? Are you there?'
'You say the plumber that visited you was a… cat?'
'Yeah, but he was an apprentice. Had a little tool belt and everything.’
The man was silent for a moment or two more. I thought he might’ve hung up, thinking that it was a prank call.
'Son, that cat used to work for me. It was several years ago now. He was a good boy, not that handy with a plumber’s friend on account of having no thumbs, but he was enthusiastic, and really cared about functioning toilets. Just before he finished his apprenticeship and became a fully licensed plumber, he died. Everyone here was really sad.’
‘Uhh…’
‘So what you encountered must have been his ghost!’
None of this explained the talking cat with a job, or that tiny car he was able to drive, and made the whole deal spooky and more of a ghost story, rather than just an encounter that was really stupid and confusing.
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