The Little Darlings
I had been to my monthly Poetry Group - we sit round reading our poems and the others critique them. The meetings are held in our local "The Old Rose and Crown". We have a side room from 7 to 9:30 pm and most drift off at the end of the meeting. A few of us true "artistes" continue talking over a pint or two as the clock winds round to 11 pm - except the landlord's a lousy time keeper. I left nearer 12 than 11 and made my way to our little cottage not 5 minutes from the pub.
Some background: We feed two of our neighbours cats, Pru and Esme. It is around Esme that this tale hinges. She is a delightful tortoise shell, with big appealing eyes and an even bigger appetite. We worry if she isn't at our front door first thing. She doesn't demand feeding. No miaowing or scratching at the door. You open the front door and she's there - starved, on death's door through lack of feeding. A plate of food is provided and it's head's down and she is so grateful. Unlike other cats I could name - not a hundred miles from our house - who insist on silver service and a doggy bag! That's Esme, she is so sweet and getting rather heavyweight but she can run like a sprinter.
Which brings me back to last Tuesday evening. As I was approaching our house, Esme spied me and came helter skeltering down the road to greet me. I hadn't expected the missus to meet me on my return so little Esme's greeting warmed my heart. " Hold on, girl", I said, "Let me get in and I'll get you a plate of food." Which I did. I went into the dining room and picked one of the numerous plates of food ignored by our little prima-donnas. I went back out and placed the plate in front of a most appreciative Esme.
I said "Goodnight", locked the door and prepared for bed. To fully appreciate the horror of the next hour or so you need to know about our household and its routines. We have four cats. In order of seniority there's Billy Bongo, Silvo and the two twins Pixie and Dixie. Before the house can settle down at night we count them in and out. On Tuesday before my darling wife secured both the front and back door she knew she had all four cats in the house.Billy Bongo and Silvo were sharing the bed with the missus and Pixie and Dixie were downstairs. The count complete 'er indoors was able to slip under the bedclothes safe in the knowledge that the most important members of the household were accounted for.
Having fed Esme, I locked the front door again and headed upstairs, washed and slipped into bed next to my wife. As I was settling down to a good night's sleep the missus asked where was Pixie. There were three of the four but the fourth was not there. Panic enshewed. Pixie had got out. When I opened the front door to feed Esme Pixie had scarpered. I was seriously interrogated. Had I seen the suspect, did I shut the door between the lounge and dining room? Did you see Pixie?
Hunts around the house produced nothing. Frankly I thought, still in bed, that this wasn't a problem: she'd be in the house somewhere, I hadn't seen her when I fed Esme. "Exactly! That's why she's not in the house". The missus by now was dressed and with a torch was scanning the front and back garden and calling "Pixie, Pixie, Pixie" to no effect.
I was beginning to doubt myself. Maybe I had not seen Pixie and maybe she had got out while I was feeding Esme. After all I'd had 3 pints of beer. In an instant I was dressed and out of the front door with torch in hand. Up and down both sides of the road, flashing my torch in the neighbours front gardens and thinking the sweet life I'd known had ended. Nothing, not a sign of the little darling and so I reluctantly returned home.
As I opened the gate, my wife appeared at the front door. "She's in, she's upstairs." In an instant I was washed over with joy and happiness. " It was Dixie who pointed her out. I wondered why she was by the chest of drawers - well earlier she'd been around the front door so I thought she'd scented Pixie - outside. Anyway, there she was - Pixie, well her paw actually, poking out from under the drawers. She knew we were looking for her and nothing, not a sound!"
All four most important beings accounted for, night time was allowed to commence. In the morning all four cats were on the bed. I have never awoken so relieved.
Comments