🔗 Share this article

We come back from our vacation to an entirely changed home: the eldest child, the middle child and the eldest's partner have been in charge for more than a fortnight. The food in the fridge is strange, sourced from unfamiliar shops. The kitchen table looks like the centre of a boiler room stock fraud operation, with monitors all around and electrical cables crisscrossing at waist height. Under the counter, the dog and the cat are scrapping.

“They’re fighting?” I say.

“Yeah, this happens regularly,” the middle one replies.

The dog corners the cat, by the rear entrance. The feline stands on its hind legs and bites the dog’s left ear. The dog shakes the cat off and chases it in circles round the table, dodging power cords.

“Common perhaps, but not typical,” I comment.

The cat rolls over on its spine, adopting a submissive posture to draw the dog in. The dog falls for it, and the feline digs its nails into the dog's snout. The canine retreats, with the cat sliding along, clinging below.

“I liked it better when they were afraid of each other,” I state.

“I think they’re having fun,” the eldest says. “It's not always clear.”

My spouse enters.

“I thought they were going to take the scaffolding down,” she notes.

“They suggested waiting for rain,” I say, “to confirm the roof repair.”

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

“Yeah, I told them that, but they still didn’t come,” I add. Scaffolding costs a lot, until you want it gone, at which point they’re happy to leave it indefinitely at no charge.

“Can you call them again?” my wife says.

“I will, just as soon as …” I say.

The only time the dog and cat are at peace is in the hour before feeding time, when they team up to push for earlier food.

“Quit battling!” my spouse shouts. The dog and the cat stop, look around, stare at her, and then roll out of the room in a snarling ball.

The pets battle on and off all morning. At times it appears to be edging beyond playful, but the feline can easily to escape through the flap and it keeps coming back for more. To get away from the noise I go to my shed, which is icy, having sat unheated for two weeks. Eventually I’m driven back to the main room, amid the screens and the wires and my sons and the cat and the dog.

The only time the pets stop fighting is before their meal, when they work together 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 say. “Right now it’s five.” The cat begins to knead the cupboard door with its claws.

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

“Sixty minutes,” I declare.

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

“I won’t,” I say.

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

“Alright then,” I say.

I feed the cat and the dog. The dog eats its food, and then goes across to watch the cat eat. After the cat eats, it turns and lightly bats at the canine. The dog gets the end of its nose beneath the feline and flips it upside down. The cat runs, halts, turns and attacks.

“Enough!” I yell. The pets hesitate briefly to look at me, before carrying on.

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. For a few minutes the sole noise is me typing.

The eldest's partner enters the room, dressed for work, and fills a water bottle at the counter.

“You’re up early,” she says.

“Yeah,” I reply. “I’ve got a photo session today, so I must work now, if it runs long.”

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

“Yes it will,” I say. “Meeting people, saying things.”

“Enjoy,” she adds, striding towards the front door.

The windows have begun to pale, showing a gray day. Foliage falls off the large tree in bunches. I see the tortoise in the room's corner. We share a sad look as a fighting duo starts to make its slow progress from upstairs.