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Jelly was staying quiet in his room, eating all his food and taking his pills without a moment's hesitation (I can say that now because he's had the last one). So of course it had to go pear-shaped.
Here's how it went. Today he started complaining about being shut in one room, so we let him roam around the house. I was cooking the evening meal, and there was a certain amount of smeech going on, so I opened the kitchen window two inches. The cat has a six-inch-diameter funnel on his three-inch-wide head, I thought. Even if I forget to close the window afterwards, there's no way he can fight through the clutter on the worktop *and* get his head through there without making some sort of noise.
So when he turned up missing, I was convinced it was just a standard cat fake-out and that he'd turn up from some hideyhole when he got hungry. Well, I say convinced...trying to convince myself was more like it. After the third trip out with a torch, I got the message that it wasn't working. So did Jan.
If you know us, you can imagine the circles we went round in for a while. At some point we decided that since all the cats were out, there was no point keeping the back door shut, and since it was stifling hot we opened it and wedged it back.
"I know it won't happen," said Jan, "but it would be nice if he just came walking in, wouldn't it?"
I went out a couple more times, accompanied by Diddy (short for Didymus Dandytail, the boy kitten from across the road who adopted us) who seemed as concerned as we were. I told him to look for Jelly and send him home, and apparently so did Jan. And then I saw a black and white shape, with funnel on head, sitting on top of one of the big grey machines in the electrical substation at the end of our path. As I advanced, the little maniac jumped down the wrong side of the substation, into the garden of number 37, whose windows were all dark. It was by now after eleven.
So I told Diddy to keep an eye on him, and went home and worried for what seemed like several hours (must have been about forty minutes). I know I made at least two pots of tea. And then, about fifteen minutes ago, Jellicle came walking in the back door, funnel still on head, calm as you please. He was followed by Didymus, and when he hesitated, Diddy batted him on the bum in a get-on-with-you manner. Jan swears to this.
Needless to say, Diddy is a Hero of the People and therefore got some of the special cat food (Hi Life Tuna Imperial). Needless to say, every orifice in the house is now shut tighter than a drum, and if we swelter, tant pis. And needless to say, I am ever so slightly relieved that my carelessness has not flushed four hundred pounds worth of veterinary work down the toilet.
Three more days to go...
Here's how it went. Today he started complaining about being shut in one room, so we let him roam around the house. I was cooking the evening meal, and there was a certain amount of smeech going on, so I opened the kitchen window two inches. The cat has a six-inch-diameter funnel on his three-inch-wide head, I thought. Even if I forget to close the window afterwards, there's no way he can fight through the clutter on the worktop *and* get his head through there without making some sort of noise.
So when he turned up missing, I was convinced it was just a standard cat fake-out and that he'd turn up from some hideyhole when he got hungry. Well, I say convinced...trying to convince myself was more like it. After the third trip out with a torch, I got the message that it wasn't working. So did Jan.
If you know us, you can imagine the circles we went round in for a while. At some point we decided that since all the cats were out, there was no point keeping the back door shut, and since it was stifling hot we opened it and wedged it back.
"I know it won't happen," said Jan, "but it would be nice if he just came walking in, wouldn't it?"
I went out a couple more times, accompanied by Diddy (short for Didymus Dandytail, the boy kitten from across the road who adopted us) who seemed as concerned as we were. I told him to look for Jelly and send him home, and apparently so did Jan. And then I saw a black and white shape, with funnel on head, sitting on top of one of the big grey machines in the electrical substation at the end of our path. As I advanced, the little maniac jumped down the wrong side of the substation, into the garden of number 37, whose windows were all dark. It was by now after eleven.
So I told Diddy to keep an eye on him, and went home and worried for what seemed like several hours (must have been about forty minutes). I know I made at least two pots of tea. And then, about fifteen minutes ago, Jellicle came walking in the back door, funnel still on head, calm as you please. He was followed by Didymus, and when he hesitated, Diddy batted him on the bum in a get-on-with-you manner. Jan swears to this.
Needless to say, Diddy is a Hero of the People and therefore got some of the special cat food (Hi Life Tuna Imperial). Needless to say, every orifice in the house is now shut tighter than a drum, and if we swelter, tant pis. And needless to say, I am ever so slightly relieved that my carelessness has not flushed four hundred pounds worth of veterinary work down the toilet.
Three more days to go...