Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 09 (11 page)

I couldn't stand him being in a cage anymore. In a strange place.

I said to Dr. Beardey, “I have to take him home.”

The vet tried to persuade me not to.

And I was beginning to feel hysterical. I had to
take him. I had to. If he was going to die, I wanted him with me, in his own little basket.

Dave the Laugh was ace. He even called the vet “sir” like he was at Eton.

He said to Dr. Beardey, “We understand you have done your very best, sir, but now Georgia wants to take care of him, so we'll just take him home.”

The vet said to me in a serious voice, “I'm just warning you that he might wake up violent and demented.”

Dave said, “I'm usually in quite a good mood when I wake up, sir.”

Which very nearly even in such poonosity made me laugh.

Dr. Beardey said, “I mean Angus.”

And Dave said, “Actually, I think you would have needed to know him before, sir.”

The vet laughed for once and said, “I did look through my predecessor's notes
vis-à-vis
the, erm, castration operation and there was some suggestion of quite wild behavior. In fact, the notes did say to never let this cat in this surgery again.”

two hours later

When we had got Angus in the house and tucked up, things went a bit awkward. Dave was on the other side of Angus's basket looking at him and then he looked up. And our heads were very close to each other. He said to me, “Don't cry any more, you'll make your eyes hurt.”

And he stroked my face. I looked at him and he looked at me. Uh-oh.

Then he just suddenly stood up and said, “I'd better go, kittyk—er, Georgia, I'm, well, I'm meeting Emma at six p.m.”

I stood up quickly and I smiled, although my mouth felt a bit stiff.

I said, “Oh yes, yes of course, yeah you would. Dave, can I just say—fanks so much, I don't know…I…”

For a second he looked like he was going to give me a bit of a kiss but he stopped and just chucked me under the chin and said, “Remember, I am not God in trousers but merely Dave the biscuit…”

And he went.

11:00 p.m.

Angus is in the laundry room in his basket under a big blanket. He hasn't moved or anything for hours. On the way home in the cab he did a little
miaow
. It was just a little
miaow
, but it was something.

He didn't open his eyes or anything.

But I think a
miaow
is a good sign.

saturday august 27th

His eyes open now and again, but they are all unfocused like he has really overdosed on catnip. Libby and me are giving him water in a little dropper thing because the vet told us to keep him hydrated.

11:00 p.m.

I have tucked in my charges and am off to beddy byes at last. I truly am a great human being, I hope Baby Jesus is noticing. I may get myself a nurse's uniform tomorrow. Libby is already wearing hers.

What if Angus really is brain dead or can't walk anymore or something, will I have done the right thing? What if I have to push him round in a cat wheelchair for the rest of his life? I can't see any boyfriend putting up with that.

11:20 p.m.

But I would do it. If he can just come round and know who I am, that will be enough for me.

sunday august 28th

I went downstairs to look in at Angus and he opened his eyes!!! And let out a really creaky
miaow
.

Hurrah, gadzooks and larks a mercy, as Billy Shakespeare and his pals would have said.

Thank you, thank you, Baby Jesus!!!

I bent down to the basket and said, “Hello, big furry pally, it's me!”

And I put my hand on his face and stroked it. He even purred!!! I started to cry again, oh well, devil take the hindmost if you can't have a blubbing fest when your cat has nearly gone to that big cat basket in the sky, when can you have a blubbing fest???

I rushed into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I had got kittykat treats just in case he wanted anything. Cream and everything. Hey, they should make special-flavored ice cream for cats called mice cream. Do you get it??? Do you see??? Oh good, I have gone hysterical. Hurrah!!!

I got a little dish of cream and carried it into the laundry room. He was lying there with his bandage over his head and stitches everywhere and his tail strapped up, but his eyes were open. I put my finger in the cream and put it to his mouth. At first he didn't respond, but then his tongue came out and licked off the cream. God, I had forgotten how disgusting his tongue was, it was like being snogged by someone with sandpaper on their tongue. Possibly. I'll ask Rosie what it is like snogging someone with sandpaper for a tongue. She probably knows!!!

Hahahahaha. I must be cheered up, my brain is chatting rubbish to itself like normal.

I knew when Angus had had enough cream because he bit my finger quite hard. No damage in the jaw department, then!

Phoned the ace gang to tell them the news.

They are all going round to Jas's house for an all-girl barbecue.

Jas said, “Are you coming to the all-girl barbecue to celebrate?”

I said, “Which of you is going to do the barbecue?”

And Jas said, “Dad is.”

“It's not exactly all-girl, then, is it, Jas?”

But then I thought of Jas's dad and I thought actually it is.

I can't go, though.

I'd like to because I haven't seen another human being for days. But I can't bear to leave Angus when he is so poorly.

I said that to Mum earlier on, I said, “Oh, I wish I had some human company whilst I nurse Angus.”

She said, “I've been here all the time as well.”

I said, “As I said, I wish I had some human company.”

And she had stropped off to have a bath. That was about two hours ago and she is still in there…I don't know what she does in there for so long, it's vair selfish.

Jas said, “We're going to give one another manicures and try different makeup, don't you want to have a go?”

I was tempted, but I said, “No, I can't, he's still too poorly, but will you phone and let me know all the goss?”

And Jas said, “Will do, Florrie Nightingale. In fact I'll come round tomorrow in the arvie. I went for a walk with Tom yesterday, it was soooo fab. I'll
tell you all about it. We actually saw a Red Admiral, which are very rare, I thought it was a sign of hope and—”

I said, “Jas, I think my mum might be coming out of the bathroom and I might be able to get in there for the first time in about a year, so hold that thought about the mothy type thing and—”

“A Red Admiral is a butterfly, actually, moths are—”

“Byeeeeeeeeeeee.”

Good grief, I had nearly stumbled into Vole-land by mistake.

monday august 29th

Woke up and went to check on Angus. Found Gordy sleeping in the cat basket with him. Soooo sweet, Gordy was all curled up at the side of his dad.

His dad might not be so keen if he knew about Gordy's homosexualist tendencies.

Jas came round and kept me company for the afternoon. We mostly tried different sorts of sexy walking. I practiced my beach walk.

Jas said, “Your feet are turning in like a duck.”

“Jas, I am doing that on purpose, that is how supermodels walk.”

“Is it? Why?”

“Jas, I don't know why, they just do. That is
le
rule. Why do they put their tongue behind their bottom teeth when they smile? I don't know, it is a simple rule. Let us just get on with it.”

But Jas had gone into Jasworld.

“Anyway, why are you practicing your beach walk? You aren't going to go to Pizza-a-gogo land now. Which reminds me, Tom was talking to Dom and Dom said that Masimo had phoned him up and was really glad that you were coming. He wouldn't be if he could see you poncing around like a duck. And also if he knew that you aren't coming, anyway.”

I stopped for a moment to hit Jas over the head with a pillow.

She did have a point, though.

I said, “Jas, will you try that number I have got? I tried it again last night and it was the same Yorkshire bloke. I slammed the phone down, but I bet he knew it was me.”

She said, “No.”

Which is nice.

9:00 p.m.

I wonder why I haven't heard from Masimo. He must be back from the hills by now. Do they have hills in Rome, or do they have hillio?

He is expecting me to arrive any day, so how will he know when to meet me if he doesn't get in touch?

Perhaps he has got the humpio because I haven't phoned him.

Phoned Jas. “Please help me find out if I've got the right number for Masimo. Pleasey, please, please.”

“I've got a face pack on.”

“Well, when you take it off, then.”

“Then I am doing my cuticles.”

I slammed the phone down. She is sooo annoying.

Oooooh, what shall I do???

Who might know the number?

Angus started yowling. He's getting a bit bored in his basket of pain now and I have to go dangle stuff in front of him that he can biff with his nose.

thirty minutes later

I had a quick mini break from cat care.

Phoned Rosie. “Rosie, will you get Sven to pop down to the snooker hall and see if any of the lads are there and see if they have got Masimo's number?”

“Okeydokey. I'll call you back,
amigo
.”

forty minutes later

None of the Dylans are in town.

Now what shall I do?

Looked in at Angus before I went to bed. Gordy is in the basket, and Naomi and Libby.

She said, “Night night, me sleepin' with big Uggy.”

tuesday august 30th

10:00 a.m.

The portly one has landed. He leapt out of his robin mobile like he had been to Antarctica instead of pretending to go fishing with Uncle Eddie. I notice he had no fish.

He kissed Mum on the cheek and she seemed a bit shy and not saying much. But at least she said hello and didn't hit him.

Dad went and looked at Angus and was quite shocked, I think. He bent down to the basket and stroked his head and I heard him say, “Poor little chap, you've been in the wars, haven't you?”

Quite touching, really.

I went into the kitchen and said to Mum, “Hmm well it seems like—”

At which point we heard from the laundry room, “Bloody hell, you big furry bastard, you nearly had my bloody finger off!!!”

I went on, “It seems like dear Pater is back.”

in bed

All quiet on the parent front. They are talking really quietly so that I can't hear them. But Mum did laugh once and I thought I heard some kind of slurping noise. Erlack. I hoped to God that they were eating jelly.

midnight

I am eschewing Jas with a firm hand because she is obsessed with her stupid cuticles and wouldn't even help me phone Masimo.

He must phone soon, surely?

wednesday august 31st

morning

The phone rang. I leapt to get it.

It was Dave the Laugh.

“Hi Gee, how is the furry one?”

I should have been disappointed that it wasn't Masimo but to be honest, I had a really warm feeling when I heard Dave's voice.

I said, “He pretended to be asleep and ill but when Dad put his hand on his nose, I mean Angus's nose not his own nose, because that would be a bit odd even for my dad. Well, when he did, Angus bit it.”

Dave laughed. “Brilliant. So you are a bit cheered up?”

I gabbled on. “Yeah, actually it was funny you would have laughed, but I tried to phone Masimo and I got some bloke called Fat Bob from Yorkshire and he said he couldn't get any decent pickled egg in Rome!”

Dave said, “Right, so you're off to Rome, then?”

I said, “Er, well, I don't want to leave Angus and, well, I—”

Dave said, “Actually, Georgia, I have to run, so
I'll see you around. Bye.”

Wow, that was a bit brutal.

I wonder why he had to run?

Maybe Emma had turned up or something. You would think that she could wait for just a minute, wouldn't you. Why did he ring if he didn't want to really speak to me?

How weird.

thursday september 1st

8:00 a.m.

Joy unbounded, Angus tried to stand up today!!! And he ate some kittykat food. Libby fed it to him with a “poon” and most of it went in his ear but hurrah hurrah!!!

To perk him up I put on his favorite tune, “Who Let the Dogs Out?” and did an impromptu disco inferno dance. I did the Viking bison dance and as a special tribute to his kittykatness I substituted paw movements for the bison horn bit. I think I am a genius dancewise!!! And even though Angus just let his tongue loll out and closed his eyes, I can tell that deep down he is secretly thrilled at my tribute dance.

That is what I think.

I have quite literally single-handedly nursed Angus out of danger.

Well, I have had a bit of help.

It was nice of Dave the Laugh to go and get Angus with me.

Vair nice.

two minutes later

So how come he is Mr. Big Pal one minute and the next minute he is too busy to speak to me on the phone?

I hope he doesn't turn into a puppydog boyfriend that just does everything his so-called girlfriend says.

Perhaps he really, really likes Emma. Because maybe she is a top snogger.

Actually I don't think she is. Her lips are quite thin and I bet that means that there is a bit of toothy exposure during No. 5 on the snogging scale.

Urghh no, I don't want Dave snogging Emma in my brain.

I'll hum something to block the picture out.

10:30 a.m.

Phone rang.

I said, “Emergency Ward ten, Nurse Nicolson speaking.”

And a voice said, “
Mi dispiace
, I lookin' for Georgia, she for not here?”

Masimo!

I said, “Masimo, it's me, it's me. Georgia. I tried to phone…er, phonio you io and couldn't—I spoke to some people from Yorkshire, I don't know who they were but they were on holiday in Italy and having a lovely time, but—I—oh, it is soooo nice to hear from you.”

Masimo was laughing.

“Ah, Miss Georgia, you are funning. I am back from ze hills, and I am thinking when you are for to come a Roma.
Mi dispiace
…I am sorry for my English, now I am with my
familia
, it is like I idioto…how you say, even more crappio.”

I said, “Masimo, well, the thing is, about me coming to Rome, well, my pussycat—you know my—”

Damn, what was the word for cat?

Surely it couldn't be cattio?

I said, “My cattio is not well.”

He sounded puzzled. “You are not well? Why, what is wrong with you?”

Oh,
merde
-io.

“Not me, my cat, you know Angus is…”

And I started doing pathetic
miaowing
down the phone. Oh good, I was talking to my Italian Stallion sophisticated boyfriend and pretending to be a cat. Excellent.

In the end I managed to get Masimo to understand. He said, “So you are not for to come for me?”

I felt quite upset. He sounded really sad. And I wanted to see Rome, although I would probably starve to death there, and never get to the lavatory or anything. It had taken me almost all of my life to tell Masimo that Angus was ill. Why can't everyone speak English? Are they just too lazy? I didn't say that, though.

twenty minutes later

We talked and talked. Well we tried to talk, but people kept coming in to where Masimo was talking to me on the phone and he would shout at them in Pizza-a-gogo. It was all sorts of people, boys, girls, his mum, his dad, aunties, uncles, dogs, and I can't be sure but I think a parrot came in as well.

They certainly seem quite sociable, the Italianos. And quite good-natured. If my family had been in the house when I was talking to Masimo, it would have been mostly shouting and
swearing—and that would have just been Libby. And then his brother came into the room and Masimo said, “
Caro
, Roberto and I will sing for you a song from the heart.”

I started to say, “Well, it's alright I—you needn't…”

But they had already started.

When they finished Masimo said, “It is an old song called ‘Volare' and it mean that my love has given me the wings.”

Blimey. A bit odd, but that is the romantic Latins for you.

When we said
arrivederci
Masimo kissed me down the phone. He asked me to do the same. I must say I felt a bit of a prat kissing the phone. But that is transcontinental romance for you.

five minutes later

I've never had anyone say they love me before. Libby lobes me, that is true, but there is something a bit menacing about the way she says it.

one minute later

And Dave the Laugh kind of said he did. What was it he said when he fished me out of the water in the
woods? Oh, yeah. “And that is why I love you.”

But he doesn't seem to love me now. In fact to be frank, he seemed to be doing a Jas. Also known as having the humpty with me.

Anyway, shut up, brain.

Concentrate on the Luuurve God in the hand, not the Dave the Laugh in the bushes.

ten minutes later

Masimo is going to fly back to Billy Shakespeare land on the fourteenth. Which is ages away.

Unlike the twelfth, the day we go back for more torture and ordure at Stalag 14.

I've said this once and I will say it again. What is the point of school? It is really only to keep the elderly insane off the streets, in my opinion, and to provide shelter for girl haters.

ten minutes later

I am quite literally on cloud nine, luuurvewise.

one minute later

Tip top of the Love-o-meter.

I couldn't be happier even if I was a hamster on happy pills scampering up my ladder.

one minute later

The only thing is, though, that I get the hurdy gurdy knee trembling and wubbish brain whenever I speak to Masimo. He makes me feel shy. And I don't really know what he's like. I mean, when you look at the nub and the gist of the situation, I have in effect only snogged him three times.

three minutes later

I wonder who I have snogged the most times?

I may have to compose my snogging history until one of my so-called friends can be bothered to phone me up. I am always doing the calling up, so let them make an effort for a change.

two minutes later

Tragically, my first sexual experience involved incest. My cousin touched me on the leg when we were sharing a room. And then he suggested we play “tickly bears.”

I am probably scarred for life mentally, but I don't complain.

At least I don't get made to hang out with him now because he has joined the navy.

So with a bit of luck he will turn gay.

one minute later

Then there was Peter Dyer, also known as whelk boy. Dave the Laugh still can't believe that all us girls actually went round to whelk boy's house to learn how to snog.

We used to queue up politely outside his door. And he had a timer.

one minute later

In fact, Dave the Laugh said, “Now that is a top job. Teaching girls to snog. It is quite literally the Horn come true.”

Back to my list.

Next came Mark Big Gob.

one minute later

To tell you the truth, my list is not perking me up much so far. In fact, it is depressing the arse off me. What was I thinking of, snogging Mark Big Gob?

I can't even bear to look at him now.

How could I snog him???

I think he must have sort of hypnotized me into doing it. I think I was so mesmerized by the sheer size of his mouth that I was paralyzed.

Anyway, it is giving me the droop to think about it, so I will move swiftly on.

Then was it the Sex God? Or did I accidentally snog Dave the Laugh first?

No, I think it was the Sex God because then he said I was too young for him and I used Dave the Laugh as a red herring to make him jealous.

And it was a bit of a surprise because Dave was quite good at snogging.

In fact, very good.

He did the lip nibbling thing, which was quite groovy.

But, anyway…

Then it was the Sex God deffo.

Aaah, Robbie. My first love. Funny that you can care so much about someone and then they are just another bloke. Not that I don't care about him. I do. It's just that—oh, I don't know. I hope he is not still so upset. He looked like he was going to say something to me at the footie, until Miss Octopussy head started asking him to get her a Coke and so on. And then threatening me with torture at Stalag 14.

I can't think about it.

I'll get on with my list.

Blimey, then I'm afraid it was the Hornmeister again. Encouraging me toward the general horn. Bad, bad, Dave the Laugh…

Then the Sex God again.

Then Dave the Laugh.

Then the Luuurve God.

Then Dave the Laugh again.

I am beginning to see a pattern emerging here. Hmmmm.

one minute later

Of course I have not included animal snogging, like when Angus accidentally stuck his tongue in my mouth.

Or weird toddler behavior.

Libby snogging my ear.

Ditto knees.

five minutes later

Jas phoned at last. And I was full of coolnosity with her. But she didn't notice because she only wanted to talk about making Tom so fascinated by her that he will forget about going away to college.

I said grumpily, “Well, you can start doing glaciosity right now, you must start eschewing Tom
with a firm hand forthwith and lackaday.”

She said, “Rightio.”

Hmm. Good, that will serve her right. See how she likes not having a boyfriend around.

ten minutes later

I am on cat patrol because Angus is trying to escape from his basket. I have tucked the blankets around him really tightly so that he can't leap about and spoil all his stitches and so on.

In the end I had to clip his lead on and fasten it to the basket.

He's livid.

But he is still a bit weak and after he had yowled about a bit he went off to snoozeland.

When I went to boboland tired from my day of constant caring I said to Mum, “You should try caring, Mum. It's vair vair tiring.”

friday september 2nd

up at the crack of 10:30 a.m.

Angus is getting stronger and more mad every day. He hates being in his basket. And he has chewed through his lead. I'm going to have to get him a metal one. He is the Arnold Schwarzenegger of cat land.

twenty minutes later

I can't stand the sound of moaning and miaowing and yowling anymore. Maybe if I take him outdoors, he will calm down a bit. Besides which, he has eaten so much of his basket, it is practically just a pile of old sticks.

11:00 a.m.

Jas came round to report on her boy entrancing skills
vis-à-vis
Hunky.

I am preparing myself to forgive her, just to pass the time, actually.

I said, “Right, what did you say when you last saw him?”

She did a bit of fringe fiddling and then said, “Hmmm, I said, see you later.”

I said, “Right, that's good, very good, nice and vague, give him time to wonder what you have been up to and so on. When did you last see him?”

She did more fringe fiddling and thinking, then she said, “Erm, let me see—erm, it was about half an hour ago.”

“Half an hour ago. Jas, you are not as such getting this, are you? You are officially giving him space so he can come pinging bang like an elastic band. Seeing him half an hour ago is not having
space, that is seeing him all the time.”

“I like to see him.”

“That is as maybe, but it is not the key to entrancement.”

“What is then?”

“You must be more mysterious and unavailable. You must gird your loins and display glaciosity and so on. You must make him jealous.”

“Why?”

“Because jealousy is good
vis-à-vis
entrance-mentosity.”

“How do I make him jealous? Shall I say I found some unusual mollusks and not show them to him?”

“No. I am not talking about nature, I am talking about the game of luuurve. You have to flirt with other blokey fandangos.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, you flirt with other blokey fandangos.”

“That is all very well for you, Georgia, you are inclined to thrust your red bottom about, but it is against my nature.”

Oh, she is soooo annoying.

In the end I got her to agree that she will practice flirting with other boys. And she will play Tom
at his own gamey and win. She said, “Right, I'm going to start now. I am practicing glaciosity. This is me being unavailable.”

And she tilted her nose up and flicked her fringe.

“No, Jas, that is just you looking stupid in my house where Tom can't even see you. You have to do something that he will notice.”

She had a bit of a think and then said, “Right, I'm going to phone him and say that I think he's right that we should have more space and that I need more space actually, because he has only been my one and only. And that I will see him when I have a spare moment.”

“Good, that is good, Jas.”

She went off to phone him and I started rooting around in the garage for a cat transporter. I hope I don't get attacked by bluebottles. Usually when Dad has been fishing he leaves his maggots in their little maggot home thing, forgets about them and they turn into huge bluebottles. I peered in, no menacing humming going on—so—now then, what can I put Angus in as a sort of cat wheelchair? Aha!!! Libby's old pushchair!!! Perfect.

four minutes later

Jas came back looking a bit flushed.

I was trying to work the straps out on the pushchair and she was flicking her fringe around like a madwoman.