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Buns for Bodie

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"I am not putting anything in my mouth that blasted cat has dribbled on," Bodie declared.

"He just had a bit of a sniff," Doyle protested. "And now we'll have to change the sheets again, you slopping tea all over the place."

Castor emerged cautiously from under the bed, glared at Bodie, and started to wash splashes of Typhoo off his back.

"If you would kindly not permit those hell fiends to go bouncing round the bedroom in future--"

"Pollux is in the kitchen, good as gold."

"Probably drooling on my Easter egg. Think it's true that chocolate is poison to cats?" Bodie asked hopefully.

"If it is you'll be rushing him off to the emergency vet like when he choked on the bacon rind you gave him that time. Half our month's budget thrown to the winds. Big softie, that's what you are."

"Yeah, bang went sixpence. More like sixty bloody quid these days."

"Never mind, sweetheart. There's a couple more in the kitchen. Out of cat reach."

Bodie indicated scepticism and gulped the remnants of his tea. "You going to hot them up, then?"

Doyle stretched provocatively and rolled over. "What about hotting me up first? Twenty years Easter tradition, remember. And these buns are all yours."

"Hang on while I get us some privacy. Lost my libido for days last time I realised those pests had been sitting on the dressing table gawping at us."

"These days, who'd know the difference?"

"You'll know the difference in about two minutes," Bodie promised. "One Happy Easter, coming up!"

"Mine's already up," said Doyle.