🔗 Share this article

We return home from our vacation to an entirely changed home: the oldest one, the middle child and the eldest's partner have been managing things for more than a fortnight. The food in the fridge looks unfamiliar, sourced from unfamiliar shops. The kitchen table resembles the centre of a boiler room stock fraud operation, with computer screens everywhere and power cords dividing the space at hip level. Under the counter, the canine and feline are fighting.

“They’re fighting?” I ask.

“Yes, this happens regularly,” the middle child says.

The dog corners the cat, over near the back door. The feline stands on its back legs and bites the dog’s left ear. The canine flicks the cat away and chases it in circles round the table, dodging power cords.

“Normal maybe, but not typical,” I comment.

The cat rolls over on its spine, assuming a passive stance to lure the canine closer. The dog falls for it, and the cat sinks two sets of claws into the dog’s muzzle. The dog backs away, with the cat sliding along, hooked underneath.

“I liked it better when they avoided one another,” I state.

“I think they’re having fun,” the eldest remarks. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

My wife walks in.

“I expected the scaffolding removal,” she notes.

“They said maybe wait until it rains,” I say, “to make sure the roof is fixed.”

“And I said I didn’t want to wait,” she says.

“Yes, I passed that on, but they still didn’t come,” I say. Scaffolding is expensive, until you want it gone, at which point they’re happy to leave it indefinitely at no charge.

“Can you call them again?” my spouse asks.

“I’ll do it, just as soon as …” I reply.

The only time the dog and cat are at peace is in the hour before feeding time, when they team up to bring feeding forward an hour.

“Quit battling!” my spouse shouts. The animals halt, turn, stare at her, and then roll out of the room as a fighting mass.

The pets battle on and off all morning. Sometimes it seems to be edging beyond playful, but the cat has ample opportunity to leave via the cat door and it keeps coming back for more. To escape the commotion I go to my shed, which is freezing cold, left without heat for a fortnight. Eventually I’m driven back to the main room, amid the screens and the wires and the children and pets.

The only time the dog and the cat are at peace is in the hour before feeding time, when they agitate in concert to bring feeding forward by an hour. The feline approaches the cabinet, settles, and gazes at me.

“Miaow,” it says.

“Food happens at six,” I tell it. “Right now it’s five.” The cat begins to knead the cabinet with its claws.

“That’s not even the right cupboard,” I point out. The canine yaps, to support the feline.

“Sixty minutes,” I say.

“You know you’re just gonna give in,” the oldest one observes.

“No I’m not,” I say.

“Miaow,” the feline cries. The canine barks.

“Alright then,” I say.

I feed the cat and the dog. The dog eats its food, and then crosses the room to see the feline dine. When the cat is finished, it turns and takes a casual swipe at the canine. The dog uses its snout beneath the feline and flips it upside down. The feline dashes, stops, pivots and attacks.

“Enough!” I say. The dog and the cat pause briefly to look at me, before resuming.

The next morning I get up before dawn to be in the calm kitchen before anyone else wakes. Even the cat and the dog are asleep. Briefly the sole noise is my keyboard.

The oldest one’s girlfriend walks into the kitchen, dressed for work, and gets water from the sink.

“You rose early,” she says.

“Yes,” I reply. “I have to go to a photoshoot later, so I must work now, if it runs long.”

“That’ll be a nice day out for you,” she says.

“Yes it will,” I agree. “Meeting people, talking.”

“Enjoy,” she says, heading out.

The light is growing, revealing an overcast morning. Foliage falls from the big cherry tree in bunches. I notice the turtle sitting in the corner. We share a sad look as a fighting duo begins moving slowly down the stairs.