#is it possible disdain should die when it has such meat food to feed it as signor Benedick?

[pajama-nerd]

I have watched the 2011 Much Ado About Nothing so many times I am now watching it in my head at work.

Walk down zone 26 and catch me talking to myself in Elizabethan prose and a Scottish accent

[galfridus1]

Disasterous Diet

Part two of the Cath fic for Zelthur weekend. Also dedicated to @thestarrynightgazer and @maybeishouldwait - thank you to Tyler the cat for inspiration for this instalment.

Part one can be found here.

***

“We can’t do this to him! Look at that face…”

Arthur felt the protest die on his lips as Gelda regarded him, her violet eyes hard and cold. “I have been saying ever since that cat came into this house that he has a problem with food. Well, now we know that he does.

“The vet was quite clear,” Gelda continued sternly as she poured a small quantity of biscuits into a cup marked with measurements along the sides. “He has to lose two kilos.” The biscuits clattered like falling hailstones into Cath’s food bowl, barely covering the bottom of the dish and Arthur smelled the unappealing odour of dry, dusty meat. “He is allowed this much, three times a day,” she added as she placed the bowl deliberately on the floor. “Do not give him any more.”

As if on cue, Cath toddled over to the dish, looking over his shoulder at Gelda with a mournful expression and Arthur could swear he saw the animal scrunch up his nose in disgust. Nonetheless, thirty seconds later all of the biscuits were gone, the cat mewling pitifully up at Arthur, his wails more than enough to tug on the heartstrings.

“But he’s hungry,” Arthur moaned as he crouched down to stroke Cath’s fur, the feline pressing his head sorrowfully into his hand. “That was barely anything! Surely we can give him a bit more than that…”

“No we can’t,” Gelda snapped as she started unpacking more bags of the offending diet biscuits, placing them neatly in one of the kitchen cabinets. “The vet was very specific. At present he is at significant risk of diabetes and liver disease. Do you want him to get sick?”

Arthur rested his hand on the cat’s soft fur, ruffling the patch behind his ears. “No, of course not,” he said quietly, “but I don’t want him to be miserable! This just seems like nowhere near enough food.”

“I asked the vet the same thing,” Gelda replied with a sigh. “But she promised it would be sufficient for his needs. And if we help him exercise he can come off the diet more quickly.” At this Gelda removed a plastic ball from the bag. “I bought him this,” she added, a hopeful edge to her tone as she held the object out for Arthur’s inspection.

Arthur examined the ball, trying to work out what it was for. Whatever it was, he sincerely doubted it would be enough to get Cath moving. In a fit of extravagance, Zeldris had bought their pet an enormous multi-tiered scratching post on Amazon, lovingly putting the complicated contraption together late one Tuesday evening after staggering in from work. Cath had taken one disdainful look at it, then sprung up onto the sofa, falling asleep on Arthur’s chest. The look Zeldris had given the animal was enough to freeze rivers, but the post had sat untouched ever since.

As if reading his mind, Gelda flashed him a mischievous smile, opening a hatch in the ball and placing a few diet biscuits inside. “This will get him moving,” she promised as she placed the ball on the floor. Cath stepped up to it cautiously, sniffing with some trepidation before pushing the ball all over the kitchen floor with something approaching enthusiasm. Arthur stared in surprise: it was the most he had seen the feline move since the day the cat had demolished his birthday cake.

“That should help,” Gelda said and Arthur was sure he could detect relief in her tone. “The vet was quite sharp with me,” she explained as he took a step towards her, pulling her into a close embrace. “I had to tell her we got him like that from the rescue centre to avoid the lecture.”

They stayed locked together for several minutes, Arthur feeling her breathing grow steady as he held her. “He’ll lose the weight, I promise,” he said with finality. “I won’t cheat. Next time he goes to the vet she’ll be really pleased.” Gelda flashed him a smile before finally pulling back, stowing the empty shopping bag in a drawer before checking her watch.

“I’ve got to go pack. Work want me to present at a conference in Dubai and I’ve got to leave soon,” Gelda said, unable to keep the hint of pride from her voice. “It’s only for a week,” she said bracingly as she caught Arthur’s slightly crestfallen expression.

“What’s this?” a voice called from the kitchen door and both the others looked round to see Zeldris, looking completely worn out. His hair and suit were as immaculate as usual, but the dark bags under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion. He always looked like this on Friday evenings. “You’re going away?”

“I found out this evening. Work just emailed the tickets to me,” Gelda explained. “Charles has a stomach bug and can’t go.”

“He’s always letting you down,” Zeldris said crossly as he folded his arms across his chest.

Gelda sighed, pressing a hand to her temple and Arthur was unsurprised to see Zeldris move towards her to rest a hand on her arm. “It’s not his fault,” Gelda murmured, “His kid has just started nursery and is bringing back every disease under the sun. And I’m happy to go. This will be good for my career.”

“When’s your flight?” Zeldris asked, and Arthur saw him stifle a yawn.

“I’m taking her, Zel. You get some sleep,” Arthur declared as he grabbed the car keys off the hook on the wall. “I’m not working til Sunday, okay?” he said, cutting off the other’s obvious protest. “Now go pack,” he added as he gave Gelda a kiss on the forehead. She looked at him gratefully before leaving the kitchen, the sound of her feet padding up the steps reaching them a few moments later.

Zeldris rubbed his eyes, his shoulders collapsing and Arthur stepped to the fridge, grabbing a Tupperware container and shoving the pasta he had cooked earlier into the microwave, the smell of tomato sauce percolating through the room. Zeldris looked at him gratefully before wolfing down the meal, barely pausing for breath as he ate.

“You didn’t get lunch again,” Arthur said reproachfully. “Honestly you have to start looking after yourself. It’s not like you’re on a diet.”

“What do you mean?” Zeldris asked, his voice muffled with food. Arthur looked around, noting with some misgiving that Cath had given up on his ball, which lay abandoned next to the skirting board, the cat himself now curled up fast asleep in his basket. Zeldris followed his gaze and gave a snort of derision.

“Gelda took him to the vet today,” Arthur explained as Zeldris chuckled. “Cath has to lose two kilos. I don’t know what to do, Zel. I mean… he can’t go thirty minutes without eating. What are we going to do.”

Zeldris stared up at him, a gleeful look in his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll manage,” he said with a smile.

***

His boyfriend was not so sanguine the following day. After they had been woken up at five in the morning, then interrupted twice by Cath’s incessant scratching on the door, Zeldris had lost it completely and banished the cat to the garden, securing the cat flap with an echoing bang. The words ‘I never want to see that thing again’ had been used several times and Arthur did not dare let Cath back into the house. The poor feline stared at him forlornly from his spot under a tree, looking every bit as miserable as Arthur felt.

“He’s just hungry,” Arthur pleaded. “It’s not his fault…”

“Then whose is it exactly?” Zeldris snapped back, his hands on his hips as he too glowered at the animal. “Ours for refusing to feed him, in direct contravention of medical advice? No, I thought not,” he huffed as Arthur stuttered incoherently. “If he’s so hungry he can damn well learn how to hunt.”

Before Arthur could respond, Zeldris strode from the room, no doubt intending to take out his anger on the dust that had settled on the bookcases and shelves. With some annoyance, Arthur looked out at the garden, deciding that he would let Cath back inside no matter the consequences. His hand was opening the French windows before it fully sunk in: Cath was nowhere to be seen.

In something of a panic, Arthur ran out of the house, feeling the rough stone tiles under his bare feet. “Cath? Cath! Where are you?” he called, his eyes darting frantically under bushes and shrubs for a telltale sign of ginger. “I’m sorry!” he added as he stepped onto the lawn. The cat couldn’t possibly have scaled the high fence, could he?

The tremendous and utterly unexpected noise bursting like a machine gun behind him made him jump out of his skin: a horrifying mixture of wailing and squealing and hissing that practically made his blood run cold. Heart beating uncomfortably fast in his chest Arthur turned round, his eyes squeezed shut, forcing himself to open them as he looked at the house.

He was just in time to see Cath practically flying through the open doors, something small and fast skittering in ahead of him. Arthur groaned, cold dread dropping to the pit of his stomach. Forcing his unresponsive legs to move, he made his way back into the kitchen, stealing himself for whatever might lie within.

As it turned out his preparations were nowhere near enough. In the few minutes that had passed between Cath returning to the house and his own entrance the kitchen had been transformed into absolute chaos. The expensive, glass fruit bowl that Gelda has brought back from Venice was lying in shining shards all over the floor along with a multitude of upturned apples and grapefruits. The utensils which were usually carefully placed on the countertop were all upended, covering the granite surface in a jumbled mess. Arthur took several deep breaths, trying to calm the hammering in his chest, an exercise which was ruined by the appearance of a vicious squirrel, hissing and squeaking from the top of a wall cabinet as Cath mewled at it angrily from below.

“What the hell!” Zeldris shouted as he ran into the kitchen, his face drained of blood as he regarded the room. “Arthur! If that cat has done this…”

Pointing towards the intruder, Arthur interjected, “I think Cath took your advice about hunting.” He was amused to see Zeldris splutter, his eyes growing wide as he looked at the squirrel in utter astonishment.

“Get that thing out of here!” he yelled as Arthur gave way to the chuckle bubbling up in his throat. “Just look at the state of this place! I can’t… I… what…”

Laughing to himself, Arthur lifted a chair and placed it directly below the furious squirrel. Then, donning oven gloves, he took his position, reaching up to grab the offending rodent. He was surprised to find his effort was successful, and that he was able to grab the grey furball without much difficulty.

“Aw, it’s only a baby,” he exclaimed as he climbed down from the chair, Zeldris visibly flinching as he walked towards him.

“Just… just get it out of here,” his boyfriend gasped as he shrank backwards towards the wall. Arthur guffawed as he let the squirrel go in the garden, the annoyed animal shooting off into the trees at the first opportunity. When Arthur returned, he found Zeldris muttering angrily to himself as he picked up the larger splinters of glass from the floor.

Arthur grinned as he made a start on the countertops, placing the utensils into the dishwasher and wiping down the surfaces. Having finished his task, Arthur moved to the floor, picking up the fruit as Zeldris hoovered. It was only when the they had finished clattering and bustling about that Arthur noticed the rustling sound coming from within one of the cupboards. Experimentally, he opened a few doors, his face breaking into a grin as he found the source of the noise.

Cath was face-first in a pile of biscuits; the container had obviously been upturned in the ruckus allowing the cat to eat his fill. The crunching sound, along with the appreciative miaows, suggested that Cath was thoroughly enjoying himself. A few moments later, Zeldris joined him and together they watched as Cath gorged on the food.

“Let’s… leave him like that. He can start his diet tomorrow,” Zeldris murmured quietly as he leant against Arthur, who wrapped an arm quickly round him in response.

“Okay. And after we finish up in here, let’s take a shower,” Arthur suggested, not needing to look into the other’s face to sense his agreement. “I don’t know about you, this work has made me break out in a sweat…”

A pause, followed by a hand moving around his waist. “Ten minutes,” came the reply and Arthur smiled.