Thug, aka The Purring Death, hasn’t been by for months, which lulled us into a false sense of security. Piper has been strolling around outside without a care and we’ve been leaving windows open. Last year I built a “box” to fit one of our casement windows, just so that it could be left open but with the only cat access through a microchip-sensing catflap. It worked well, and Ginge really appreciated the arrangement, but honestly she prefers a plain and simple open window.
A few nights back I heard a fuss, and found Piper watching the outside world through the catflap in the front door. I’m not sure how much he could see because it was dark out there, but clearly he knew something was on the prowl. I mean, if he had just turned around, he would have seen Thug, inside the house, on the window cill behind him. Fortunately for Piper, Thug has mellowed in middle-age and was more interested in hoovering out a bowl of food.
Thug is still a glorious, adorable and adoring cat, and it was very nice to see him, but that’s a sentiment not shared by any of our cats.
The truly amazing thing is that even after so many months, Thug still remembers the routine. I opened the front door, Piper chose to be elsewhere, and Thug followed me down the path, got in the van and I drove him home as he ate kitty nibbles.
We didn’t think anything more of it, until last night. Thug arrived again, and Piper was clearly aware that something was amiss. He sat on the doormat at the back door, staring out into the darkness. He does this during the day, watching the rain come down, part of the the routine which my partner referred to as looking for the door into summer. (She was quoting the title of a novel by Robert Heinlein, in turn prompted by his wife commenting on their cat checking the weather out of every door, in the search for the door into summer…) Of course there is no summer to be had, only Thug, and he was already inside. As with a few nights previous, if Piper had just turned round…
Once again, Thug was more interested in the food bowl and then obligingly followed me out for me to drive him home.
The problem, as ever, is getting him to stay home. Thug isn’t really interested in being driven home as such, because he fully subscribes to the principle that is is not arriving that matters, but the journey itself. If I walk to his owners’ house, he follows, but then he follows me back to the van. The only way to make him stay put (unless their door is open) is a pile of kitty nibbles on their doorstep to distract him long enough for me to make my escape. In winter, in the dark, it’s quite a challenging exercise following the path to their door without tripping over Thug. For extra excitement, as I shuffled carefully along, there was the farty raspberry sounds that could surely only be a hedgehog on the move. You don’t want to trip over one of those in the dark.
Then the farty raspberry repeated, right beside my elbow. Damn, but that’s a really tall hedgehog. My next, most rational instinct was to run screaming for the van and hope that I wasn’t the opening-credits victim of the newly-risen monster. A modest cardio workout is supposed to be good for you… Then I remembered the neighbours mentioning providing a retirement home to a pony. I’ve no idea what the pony actually looks like, because I’ve only ever heard it in the dark, but it’s nose is about level with my elbow and it doesn’t have a taste for kitty nibbles. That, or it’s a fiend running late for Halloween, but well-disposed towards people who drive a cat home.
Whatever. Taking Thug home certainly spiced up my evening.
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Post Script
I didn’t get as far as posting this yesterday because we went to Plymouth – medical appointments, shopping, that sort of thing. The evening plan was simple. As soon as we got back, turn the oven on, put the chickens to bed, collect the eggs in the dark, heat a pizza, and relax.
Thug was on the drive when we got back, upset that no windows were open. My partner went in to turn the oven on, whilst I drove Thug home, with the pizza still in the van.
Of course, it was early, barely dark, and I got chatting to the neighbours, got mugged for kitty nibbles by Thug’s sister, even failed to notice my phone chiming with a text Pizza come home.
At least the pony didn’t stalk me this time.
Mark-Huntley-James 
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