Hi John
That's because they edited it, took out a few key phrases and inserted stuff I didn't write. Grrrr! Editors, eh? Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.
The slippers were in my wife's dressing room, along with the spare bed, and I guess a cat can keep its legs crossed for only so many days. Pretty impressed that it managed over 48 hours, actually.
For anyone remotely interested, or who hasn't got a clue what we're on about, here is the origianl.
Cheers
Steve
It was a dark and stormy night. Well, it was night anyway, Saturday night, and we were startled awake by a terrible noise. A screaming. Not so much a screaming as a wailing. Not so much a wailing as an other-worldly howling. Not so much, well, it was indescribable. But it was very, very loud, and seemed so close we thought that it was perhaps foxes fighting outside our bedroom window.
But investigation revealed... nothing. We went back to sleep.
The following night, Sunday... the same. Very loud, very close, and very unidentifiable. Lights went one, we searched, but in vain.
Monday night... well Monday all was quiet. But when my wife got up and went into her dressing room (we are quite posh) she slipped her foot into her sheepskin slippers to find they were damp. More than damp, they were wet. And just a trifle smelly.
Tuesday the cleaners arrived (told you we were posh) and as they attacked the dressing room with the hoover, and went under the spare bed, whoosh, out came a startled and probably terrified cat. We don't have a cat so it wasn't ours. Fortunately the cleaners were cat-people and they went round closing some doors and opening others, and pretty soon the cat found its way, sharpish, out of the house.
It must have got into the house on the Saturday while we were in the garden and got stuck somehow.
Now,
you know that sheepskin is washable, and
I know that sheepskin is washable, but my wife insisted on buying new slippers. She is so profligate, my wife.
We never saw the cat again.
