Yeah, I know you don't like cats, but I do... Somehow this mutated on the way...consider it six drabbles in one. ***
Dung did not regard himself as a sentimental man. Still, the sorry sight of the scrawny kitten could have moved anyone, as it was sniffing through the dustbin in the alley behind the pub in the harbour. It was raining, and the wind was whipping the waters of the firth into a rage - surely he couldn't leave it here alone. He went back, picked it up and with a sigh he put it in his pocket.
"You are not going to believe this. Dung got me a kitten!" Hermione picked up the kitten from the floor. "But I can't keep it. I mean, what will Crookshanks say?" Harry looked at her and found himself thinking. "I can't take it either," he replied, "and I don't think the Dursleys will be nice to it. I guess you'll just have to return it, poor thing."
Later that same evening Dung sat in his flat, glaring at the little animal who was finishing the leftovers from his dinner. But as the kitten curled up like a ball beside him, he found his heart melting like wax in a flame... "What should I call you, then?" he muttered. "Rose, because of your red fur?" No. A rose can sometimes be a hideous thing. Too many thorns...but the colour reminded him of someone. Of course! "Weasley is a good name for a cat, dontcha think?"
Later it was discovered that little Weasley was, indeed, a she, and what name would suit her better than Molly? Still, Dung did not regard himself as a sentimental man, no sir. Just a cat-owner. Somehow that sounded better.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The drabble
Date: 2004-10-08 07:39 am (UTC)Somehow this mutated on the way...consider it six drabbles in one.
***
Dung did not regard himself as a sentimental man. Still, the sorry sight of the scrawny kitten could have moved anyone, as it was sniffing through the dustbin in the alley behind the pub in the harbour. It was raining, and the wind was whipping the waters of the firth into a rage - surely he couldn't leave it here alone.
He went back, picked it up and with a sigh he put it in his pocket.
"You are not going to believe this. Dung got me a kitten!" Hermione picked up the kitten from the floor. "But I can't keep it. I mean, what will Crookshanks say?"
Harry looked at her and found himself thinking. "I can't take it either," he replied, "and I don't think the Dursleys will be nice to it. I guess you'll just have to return it, poor thing."
Later that same evening Dung sat in his flat, glaring at the little animal who was finishing the leftovers from his dinner. But as the kitten curled up like a ball beside him, he found his heart melting like wax in a flame... "What should I call you, then?" he muttered. "Rose, because of your red fur?"
No. A rose can sometimes be a hideous thing. Too many thorns...but the colour reminded him of someone. Of course! "Weasley is a good name for a cat, dontcha think?"
Later it was discovered that little Weasley was, indeed, a she, and what name would suit her better than Molly?
Still, Dung did not regard himself as a sentimental man, no sir. Just a cat-owner. Somehow that sounded better.