I returned home from violin last night, clattering through the back door with my trunk of wooden bits. It was a good evening as I’d managed to carve the neck into its lovely figured scroll. But home now. Cup of tea and some lasagne. Lubbly-jubbly
Yoda, apparently had been asking for me. At bath time he’d sworn he could hear me down stairs and insisted on shouting down “Dddddaaaaadddy!!”. L told him it was voices in the street (very unusual in our cul de sac). Unsatisfied, eventually she’d taken him down to inspect the darkened empty living room. No daddy.
It took L a while to settle him (I’d heard him clamouring over the phone when I rang earlier). But now all was blissful peace. His gentle snoozing (well, LOUD snoring actually) was purring through the baby monitor. L and I re-watched our episode of Mad Men and then headed for bed.
As lights went out I heard him whimpering. Getting up I went in to settle him only to find a carefree toddler snoring away oblivious to the world. Odd.
Returning to bed I heard him again, then thought for a minute.
“Cats in the garden!” We snuggled under and shut our eyes.
The cries got louder and a scuffling noise broke out. What the hell is that? Rats? Burglar?
I crept down with a torch to investigate. Outside there was nothing so I unlocked the garage (which is under our bedroom) and peeped inside. There to my astonishment blinked a small black terrified cat rather like Postman Pat’s Jess. It shot under some junk and cowered in the corner.
Our garage is normally locked with no cat sized entry points apart from the doors. It must have slipped in when L was there on Sunday putting washing in the drier. Just as well I heard it then.
Eventually it shot out and I went back to bed. There I wondered what it would have been like if we’d been away. Slowly agonisingly starving to death with no water. I mentioned to L that once I was in Scotland visiting my mum many years ago and a herd of stray cats dashed across the Edinburgh Bypass as I drove along late one night. The car in front struck one and we both pulled over.
The road was silent and the cat lay there with its tail swaying vertically in the air. It whined in pain.
“What should I do?” asked the driver.
I put my hand on the cat’s side. I could feel the heart beat within getting weaker and weaker until the tail fell and life was extinguished. It was the first living mammal I’d seen die. Small and innocent and gone.
This morning I asked my neighbour if her cat had been missing. Yes, indeed. Sunday afternoon. Now it was sleeping on her bed after demanding to be fed at 6am.
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