Lock and load

Special Agent 003.33 Noel. Licence to spray

Intruder alert! Intruder alert! Intruder alert! Half past two in the morning and security had been breached, there was someone in the house. Noel sat bolt upright and leapt out of bed, scooping  up the weapon he keeps beside him in case of attack. Today it looked like he may need it.

I’d heard it too, the back door, accessible only through two locked gates and a catflap. The intruder must be a midget, how would he escape through that with our most valuable possession, the Gaggia coffee maker? He wouldn’t get the camera, I sleep with that. And the computers are connected to some cyber security system so clever that only Noel can access it – at least that’s what he tells me.

Noel edged down the stairs like the secret agent that he was born to be, all this computer programming and geekiness is just a front, he is Agent 003.33.. The sound of scuffling was followed by hissing, jangling and the rattle of the catflap. Noel had fired, the intruder had fled, the Gaggia was safe.

It turned out the intruder was a big, fat black and white cat wearing a fluffy girlie collar with a huge bell and tag advising anyone who cared to read it that he was on a special diet. He’d been helping himself to Cat’s dinner and clearly wasn’t going to lose weight any time soon. We christened him Dr Evil as he’d been hanging around our garden for a while, making himself at home in the flower beds, plotting global domination, pooing where he wanted.  Meanwhile,  Cat, oblivious to the threat, just slept through it all.

Dr Evil has had a couple of goes getting his fat backsde in through the catflap, he’s not that bright because he did it while we were watching. The first time we chased him away, the second time, we thought he may need a little discouragement, so Noel picked up the watersprayer and gave him a little squirt. It became his weapon of choice and soon we were the talk of the neighbourhood as we were spotted sprinting down the garden, spray in hand.

Now we’re going to have to take it in turns to stand guard over the catflap until the new fancy chip-reading version arrives. And Cat, the authorised user of said catflap, just carries on trotting in and out as if he owns the place. Hmmmmm.

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