Out For A Wee

David has made two cups of tea.

Fluffy has made herself at home on the best cushion.

She's a dear little creature, says Katherine. 

So I see, says David. Does she have her own basket?

She sleeps at the end of my bed, says Katherine. 

But... while you're here, says David.

Don't be a fusspot, says Katherine. She's perfectly clean.

All the same, says David. Before I go, I'd like to see Fluffy in a basket.

I wonder if Margaret would take her, says Katherine. Then I could come with you, to New Zealand.

It won't be your sort of holiday, says David. We're going to a tiny island, where we'll need a permit. There will be hardship. 

I don't mind hardship, David, says Katherine. I'm a hardy Scots woman. I might call Margaret.

Please don't, says David. If you do, I foresee our whole trip being called off.

By Gaius? says Katherine. I don't have to tell Margaret where we're going. And anyway, if she has Fluffy, she can't come.

Exactly. So she won't have Fluffy, and she'll invent a geological reason for going to Te Hauturu-o-Toi, and you'll still be stuck here with Fluffy, says David.

Katherine finishes her cup of tea. She regards Fluffy, curled up on David's best cushion.

David stands up. 

I'll make up the spare bed for you, mother, says David.

Thanks dear, says Katherine. I'll just let Fluffy out for a wee.

You do that, says David. One blanket or two?

One dear, says Katherine.

She scoops up Fluffy.

Fluffy opens one eye. What's this?

Grrr-cuk! she vomits up a smelly lump of Schmacko.

Tch! says Katherine. Come on! Time for a wee-wee.

She opens the front door.

Lets Fluffy into the garden.

Fluffy shoots off, after a possum.

Car brakes screech.

Perhaps solving the problem of Fluffy.