🔗 Share this article

We come back from our vacation to a completely different household: the oldest one, the middle one and the eldest's partner have been managing things for over two weeks. The refrigerator contents is strange, sourced from unfamiliar shops. The dining table resembles the centre of a boiler room stock fraud operation, with monitors all around and electrical cables crisscrossing at hip level. Under the counter, the dog and the cat are scrapping.

“They’re fighting?” I ask.

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

The dog corners the cat, over near the back door. 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.

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

The cat rolls over on its spine, assuming a passive stance to lure the canine closer. The dog takes the bait, and the cat sinks two sets of claws into the dog's snout. The dog backs away, with the cat sliding along, clinging below.

“I preferred it when they avoided one another,” I say.

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

My spouse enters.

“I expected the scaffolding removal,” she says.

“They suggested waiting for rain,” I say, “to make sure the roof is fixed.”

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

“Yes, I passed that on, but they never showed up,” I add. Scaffolding costs a lot, until removal is needed, then they’re content to keep it indefinitely at no charge.

“Will you phone them once more?” my wife says.

“I will, just as soon as …” I reply.

The sole moment the canine and feline are at peace is in the hour before feeding time, when they team up to push for earlier food.

“Quit battling!” my wife screams. The animals halt, turn, look at her, and then roll out of the room in a snarling ball.

The dog and the cat fight on and off all morning. Sometimes it seems more serious than fun, 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, left without heat for a fortnight. Finally I return to the main room, amid the screens and the wires and the children and pets.

The sole period the dog and the cat stop fighting is in the hour before feeding time, when they work together to bring feeding forward by an hour. The feline approaches the cabinet, sits, and gazes at me.

“Meow,” it says.

“Food happens at six,” I tell it. “It's only five now.” The cat begins to knead the cupboard door with its front paws.

“That’s not even the right cupboard,” I say. The dog barks, to support the feline.

“Sixty minutes,” I say.

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

“I won’t,” I insist.

“Miaow,” the cat says. The canine barks.

“Alright then,” I say.

I give food to the pets. The canine devours its meal, and then goes across to watch the cat eat. When the cat is finished, it turns and lightly bats at the canine. The dog uses its snout beneath the feline and flips it upside down. The feline dashes, stops, turns and strikes.

“Stop it!” I yell. The pets hesitate to glance at me, before resuming.

The following day I get up before dawn to be in the calm kitchen while others sleep. Both pets are sleeping. Briefly the only sound in the house is me typing.

The oldest one’s girlfriend enters the room, dressed for work, and fills a water bottle from the sink.

“You rose early,” she says.

“Yes,” I say. “I have to go to a photoshoot today, so I must work now, in case it goes on and on.”

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

“Indeed,” I agree. “Meeting people, talking.”

“Have fun,” she says, heading out.

The light is growing, revealing an overcast morning. Leaves drop off the large tree in bunches. I notice the turtle sitting in the corner. We share a sad look as a fighting duo starts to make its slow progress from upstairs.