Last week my husband came home from work a little agitated, not by work but by a cat he had found in our local supermarket car park. It was wandering in and out of the cars and behind reversing cars at times, totally unperturbed by the dangers it faced and only intent on having a fuss from any shopper with a soft spot for cats.
Reluctantly my husband left it to come home but the following day he was also driving through our local town in the rush hour when, to his surprise, the same cat ambled slowly out in front of his car. Fortunately he was able to stop, but since ‘The Cat’ had decided to sit in the road in front of his car, my husband saw no alternative but to pick it up and bring it home.
You can imagine my reaction as I opened the door and ‘The Cat’ (we called it ‘The Cat’ so that we didn’t get too fond of it!) strolled in, (a bit uncertain and wobbly on its legs at first but otherwise unharmed) happily followed me into the kitchen, drank some proffered milk and ate a dishful of cat food. (Fortunately we still had a couple of cans in store)
Next we phoned both vets and they kindly placed posters up in their surgeries (one said that a cat fitting our description had been brought in on a few occasions by concerned shoppers) and said they would let us know as soon as they heard from anyone.
Very soon ‘The Cat’ settled in and made itself at home, curling up contentedly on the sofa and greeting us like long lost friends when we came home from work the following day. It made the place its home, was as good as gold, clean and just wanted a bit of attention now and again. (Don’t we all) By this time we noticed that ‘The Cat’ was deaf, and with colouring similar to that of our last and beloved moggy, it was hard not to get too fond of it.
With no news by Saturday morning we headed off into town armed with posters and asked in the Post Office and the supermarket. I left posters to put up on display and went to do my shopping but a young lady raced up to me and asked me about ‘The Cat.’ Apparently this happens quite frequently and she had a number to call.
The story had a happy ending – ‘The Cat’ was returned to his owners who, although concerned, said that ‘Jack’ frequently disappeared for a day or two but always came back. Anyway we can rest assured that Jack enjoyed his little vacation ‘chez nous’ but we hope his nine lives are not running out and that his luck in avoiding the traffic continues.
Why does it suddenly seems so very quiet and empty here again and why can’t I help looking out for an expectant face as I go into the kitchen?