![]() The sight of Shelf charging at the front door with a determined ‘Meow! – I will be a doormat!’ – concerned his owners mildly. He would charge repeatedly at the front door in the hopes that such a force would compact his cat shape into a more doormat shape. ![]() Shelf had tried everything to become a doormat. His whiskers would twitch and tickle his wide eyes, his little cat mouth pursing at the wonder of the firm touch of a foot, sometimes even a hand as his owners would sweep up the letters lying about the mat. What a thought! He would stare so intently at his owners as they walked in and out of the door. ![]() Maybe, if he thought very hard, it could be him getting walked all over. He would regularly watch the door, revelling in the attention the mat received. Shelf so desperately wanted to be a doormat. How nice it must feel to be touched by firm feet, by dropped keys, by mail that would flutter over the doormat’s ruffled corners – ‘Delightful!’, thought Shelf. And this doormat certainly recived more attention than Shelf. It is true, as household objects go, a doormat gets a lot of human contact in a day. ‘Oh, what a life it must be to live as a doormat’, Shelf thought. Shelf was too busy looking at where the mail landed. Not that Shelf ever looked at the golden mail flap on the yellow front door. With a yellow front door and a golden mail flap. With these thoughts, they dubbed their new cat ‘Shelf’. They thought, ‘we will give him a shit name’. Our cat just has a frozen potato waffle mark on his back.’. They thought, ‘we wanted a Tortoiseshell cat. ![]() The new owners of the cat were disappointed. The advert, and the cat breeders who made the advert, were convinced that more than one single frozen potato waffle mark would grow on the cat’s back. His owners had purchased a Tortoiseshell cat on gum tree 6 years ago. This patch resembled a frozen potato waffle. He was a black cat with one white dot on the tip of his tale and a single mottled yellow square on his back. It didn’t get off to a good start for Shelf you see. But poor Shelf, bless his little cat heart, he just longed to be stroked. He had a place to sleep, a roof over his head and on Tuesdays, an empty tuna can for him to dip his paw into. ![]()
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