All in all, the Department of Magic had been about as helpful as I expected. That is to say; not helpful in the least. Knowing who I was and of what I was capable was the government’s main concern. Up and above that I was on my own.
It was not every day you were told that a demon was looking to make you its personal buffet, and although I was not even sure what that meant, it sounded like something worth avoiding. I racked my brain, trying to recall where this creature may have come from. Nothing came to mind, and as I exited the Department of Magic I realised it was with more questions than when I had entered.
But at that moment I had more pressing issues to consider, namely; Critter the departed cat, a feline that managed to make my life less pleasant even from beyond the grave. I could just have claimed he had run away, but this would require acting and lying in equal parts. And since I was notoriously bad at both an alternate plan was prudent.
My solution, an ingenious idea which came to me as I climbed back into my feeble car, was one that can only be described as “inspired”.
I would buy an identical cat and replace Critter before anyone noticed; the traditional solution. One used by parents the world over who had forgotten to feed their child’s goldfish.
So it was off to the nearest pet store, where upon describing Critter I learned the filthy wretch was in fact a “Persian”, and for who knew what reason that made him worth more than my afore mentioned feeble car. Almost, but not quite, literally.
By chance the pet store had a cat of a very similar colour, except that I estimated the black patch on the animals head to be extending a few inches more along the neck. Given circumstances, I could not have hoped for a better match.
So after debating the situation for twenty minutes, weighing up the ludicrous cost against the potential drama, I decided to buy Critter 2 on the spot. The feeling of handing over what constituted most of a month’s pay was, in a nutshell, like being kicked repeatedly in the genitals.
Critter 2 was loaded into a convenient carry cage, free with your purchase of an overpriced animal, and I carted him out to the car.
As I sat looking at the fat cat on the passenger seat, noting his placid expression, I wrestled with the idea that I might make friends with this animal. That perhaps since I had bought him myself me and the furry hippopotamus could be friends.
“Who’s a pretty cat?” I said, poking my finger into the cage. He responded with a dry hiss and slashed at my finger, drawing a drop of blood. It seemed that Critter 2 in every sense of the word was the true reincarnation of himself.
Wincing in annoyance and sucking at my injured finger, I put my car into gear and headed off.