1ARTHUR
Arthur came into my life one September Sunday. "You have beautiful eyes," I told him. He just grinned.
Arthur liked to sing. It sounded like someone killing a cat but I thought it was cute.
When I found out he needed a place to stay I offered him my couch, but by the end of the week he'd wormed himself into the bed.
Arthur was an amateur Houdini.
Before Arthur I could make a packet of Scotch Fingers last a week. He loved them so much we'd have to share them out on the first night or I wouldn't get any.
Once I caught him in my underwear drawer. I was shocked, but he disarmed me with that cheeky grin and I couldn't help but laugh.
Sometimes he would disappear for days on end.
Arthur brought me presents: tulip bulbs; an interesting rock; pinecones; and those triangular orange flags they string up around roadworks.
He insisted on sharing whatever I was eating, especially fetta and Kalamata olives.
Arthur liked to pull my hair to wake me up. It was annoying, but it was one of the things I missed later
Once he made me so angry I screamed at him. He stormed out. I cried. Hours later he showed up dripping water on the doormat. He looked wretched. I just held the door open and said, "Are you coming in?"
Arthur was a bed hog.
He liked cartoons. His favourite was 101 Dalmatians. I hired it for him eleven times. Later the child of a friend was watching the video and I burst into tears. I couldn't explain why, but my friend understood.
Arthur always knew when I was upset, no matter how I tried to hide it. He never failed to cover my face with wet kisses.
He was very jealous. He hated all my male friends, and gave them threatening looks behind my back. I was expected to ignore him flirting with my girl friends, though. They thought he was sweet.
Sometimes he would just sit and watch me with an unreadable expression.
Arthur could get moody. If I neglected him he'd turn his back on me and stare into space for hours.
He had a passion for chasing flies. They drove him nuts. I learned to get out of the way when he had one in his sights; it was either that or be knocked over.
Arthur was a sucker for food. If he was sulky I could always cheer him up with prawn-crackers.
For weeks after the accident I wouldn't leave the house. My friends tried to cheer me up. One of them said, "It's not the end of the world," and I slapped him.
Arthur hated pink. When I pulled out the laundry cupboard hunting for a sock, a treasure trove of lost pink tee-shirts, skirts, underwear and cardigans cascaded across the floor.
He would tramp mud all through the house, driving me crazy. Yelling at him never helped, he'd just give me a hurt look and slink off to the shed.
My diary had a string of blank pages spanning the months afterwards.
He liked to hide my shoes. I'd run around frantically with a lone slingback in my hand, and he would just watch, grinning.
After Arthur I swore it would never happen again.
Jessie came into my life on a cold winter's afternoon. Honey-blonde, she was so beautiful I couldn't help but smile. "Hello, darling," I said. "Do you want to come home with me?"
I rather like this story. Tell me what you think ~ Jing