Bianca,
a much loved and pampered cat, stretched herself out on the chaise
longue like a netball goal shooter. Her two front paws extended
overhead, lazy claws making tiny stabs at the empty air.
“Where's
my beautiful Bianca?” called her lady owner coming through from the
dressing room as she put on a pair of pearl earrings, “There you
are, darling. Found you. Have you had a good nap?” Bianca's green
eyes sleepily blinked back as if in answer.
“Of
course you have. Let's get you ready shall we?” And before Bianca
could give her usual consent, she'd picked her up and ceremonially
carried her to the dressing table with its oval mirror.
“How
precious you are!” Her lady said as she stroked Bianca's purring
head and studied their reflections in the glass, “Don't we make a
gorgeous pair?” She laughed, “The very fairest of the fair.”
And
that much was true: they were both exceedingly fair. The lady had
platinum blonde sweeping hair, which today was swept off her face and
swung in a loose pony-tail, and which combined with her smooth
marble-like skin accentuated her ice-blue eyes; cradled by her
Bianca's plush fur was whiter than the first falling of snow and her
green eyes glittered like emeralds.
She was
so relieved her lady owner hadn't thought to call her Snowflake or
Snowball. Bianca was much more original, and it was a blessing that
being so white she wasn't stone-deaf, although sometimes her lady
seemed to misread her miaows. Mistaking one which meant 'give me
fish' for 'let me out'.
Bianca
purred as her lady brushed her soft fur and fastened her expensive
diamanté choker and clipped the matching lead to it. All ladies
should walk to show off their figure, her lady believed, but Bianca
saw that the lady had packed her 'cat companion' travelling cushion
in her Gucci handbag, so they must be going somewhere by chauffeured
car.
Outside,
a black Mercedes with dark tinted windows was waiting. On seeing them
descend the stairs, the chauffeur popped open the back passenger door
and made sure both were comfortably seated.
“You're...
a VIC – a Very Important Cat,” was what Bianca heard above the
gentle rumble of the engine. Of course I am, Bianca thought, and
assumed she was being taken to meet the Queen. Her Majesty had
obviously heard of her excellent breeding.
But
instead the Mercedes took them to London Zoo. Bianca's whiskers
bristled with indignation. Here! Her lady can't be serious! But her
lady produced a gold-leafed invite and was ushered though, passed the
queues with Bianca digging her sharp claws into her shoulder. “Act
important!” Her lady hissed.
Bianca
plaintively miaowed and leapt to the ground and walked alongside her
lady, very perturbed, but with some vestige of dignity. The official
stopped outside the zoo's latest star attraction: a rare Bengal white
tiger named Raj, who had recently finished a tour with two famous
magicians.
Her
lady bent down, “Go with the nice keeper,” and handed over the
leash.
Bianca
by now had realised her misapprehension...she was about
to meet
a VIC. She gulped nervously, was she to be the tiger's dinner? All
the same, she sauntered into the glass enclosure as if this was her
first and last 'red carpet' moment.
Raj,
who languidly sat on a throne in a sapphire smoking jacket with a
jewelled crown perched on his head was evidently amused. Their eyes
met, as if they were part of a screenplay, across the fragrant
plant-filled room, very aware that lots of interested eyes were upon
them.
She
lowered her head and allowed herself to be placed in the diminutive
garden chair alongside the monstrous throne, where to her surprise
Raj, as he smoked cigars, fed her smoked salmon on buttered brown
bread.