If anyone reading this bumps into Satan in the next few days, let him know I've found his cat. I imagine he's wearing out a fair bit of hoof leather putting up signs on telegraph poles in an attempt to get him back.
LOST. Grey cat, answers to the name Beelzebub, or Baal. Last seen in the Northbridge area where I recently picked up a soul in exchange for a Ferrari and a nine handicap.
Cat speaks with voice not dissimilar to James Earl Jones, is reasonably large and can be identified by revolving head and glowing eyes. Cherished member of the family.
Please call +61 02 6666 6666. Eternal reward offered.
Apparently he is living across the road. A few weeks after we moved in Mrs A. and I were sitting on the front deck enjoying a summer evening and a bottle of wine when a whirling dervish of feline fur screaming obscenities in tongues erupted up the steps and into our midst. Spotty Monsta was one half of the dance, so I advanced towards them making my best "pppffffssstt garn get outta here" noises. The blur stopped in a nanosecond, separated into two separate entities, and I met Baal.
I walked towards him. He walked towards me. I made shooing motions. He started to swear at me and sing the praises of his Dark Lord, (which surprisingly when played backwards told me to go to church and read the Bible), and then he went for me.
He was facing two humans and three cats, but he advanced towards me and took a swipe. Since then he has attacked me on three separate occasions when I have gone to the aid of my bruised and beaten feline family. Yesterday I hosed him. He stopped walking towards me, but he didn't actually run away. He sauntered off to the bushes and sat their inviting me to come in after him. Mrs A. is a church goer. I'm thinking she may have to get me a vial of holy water. Or have the church font plumbed to my garden hose.
Maybe I can call the RSPCA exorcism unit. I think they have a dog service called Out damned spot, but whether they do cats or not I don't know.