The tiger and the washing up

“There’s an escaped tiger,” I warned my wife, “it was on the news. It broke out of a zoo. You’d better be careful. Close the cat-flap and don’t leave any windows open.”

I thought no more about it, other than making my team at work complete an online ‘Are you a tiger?’ quiz (you can’t be too careful).   

When I got home from work that night I found that the washing up had been done while I’d been out.

“It’s the tiger,” I warned my wife, “it’s broken into the house and done the washing up.”

“Are you sure?” she said, “it sounds unlikely. Tiger’s aren’t famed for doing washing up. Perhaps I did the washing up.”

“Don’t be absurd, you’ve never done the washing up in all the years I’ve known you. It’s almost certainly the tiger. It’s probably a trap. Be careful, they’re cunning animals are tigers. There was one in Dubai who posed as the milkman; killed 47 people he did, AND he overcharged them for yogurt.

However, in spite of my warnings and the extra care I took locking the house, the same thing happened the next day. I returned home to find all the washing up done, in a tigerly-thorough fashion.

For the third day, though, I’d hatched a plan to catch the tiger. I left home at the normal time and drove towards work. However, on the way there I phoned in sick, doubled back on myself and returned home. 

I silently unlocked the front door and crept into the kitchen. There, standing at the sink on his hind legs, doing the washing up, was the tiger.

I approached triumphantly.

“Caught you!” I said.

But I hadn’t. 

Too late I realised I was talking to a hologram. It wasn't a real tiger at all, just a scene from a movie. 

I turned round to see the real tiger, smiling at me with a full set of tiger teeth.