Who’s The Daddy?

Tiger Woods.
Tiger Woods.

This week we have been mostly playing Cat Golf, the sport of kings.

Our daughters’ two rescue tom cat brothers had been growing a bit listless of an evening and were on the lookout for something to do.

So a quick trip to Narnia (the cupboard under the stairs where a whole host of forgotten, magical treasures like unused cordless drills and screwdrivers lie gathering dust) ended with the discovery of an old golf bag full of left-handed clubs and dimpled balls.

This bag full of Ram clubs was purchased on a whim by yours truly one sunny July afternoon in the credit-fuelled summer of 2005 when I had taken our then three-year-old daughter #2 out for a spin in the car in a vain attempt to get her to take her afternoon nap.

Twenty miles later we found ourselves outside a big golf shop in Preston with a wide awake and cranky toddler strapped on a booster chair on the back seat. Tiger Woods had just won The Open at St Andrews by a million shots with his eyes shut and mid-30s blokes too knackered to play football play golf, don’t they?

A few hundred quid later and after letting our little baby have a swing with a cut-off club in the nets, we were golfers. How hard could it be?

Thing is though, it turns out that to get good at golf you have to play a lot. And after half a dozen good walks spoiled, it hit me. Golf is really, really boring. Outdoor marbles is as good a description of it as I’ve ever heard.

So a pristine set of clubs has lived under our stairs for the past nine years. And that’s where our cats come in.

I rummaged round the bag, found a brand new and unused Wilson Ultra golf ball and slowly rolled it across the floor a few times to get the attention of our furry friends.

Eventually they pounced and dribbled it across the kitchen lino with all the speed and grace of Cristiano Ronaldo. There’s only one problem. Cats have a very, very short attention span and are indifferent after a few seconds.

Then, hours later, they pounce on it out of the shadows like Cato on Inspector Clouseau, although in reality it looks more like Peter Sellers playing billiards in A Shot In The Dark.