Chris Pascoe’s Fun Tales
Who knew that weather and cats could be such a powerful emotional mix?
Isn’t it odd that many of us can just about put up with any level of sadness in stories involving our fellow human beings, but when it comes to a sad animal story, we’re reduced to sobbing wrecks?
I definitely belong in this category. The only book that’s ever left me heartbroken was a chirpy, quirky sci-fi novel involving a time traveller and his cat.
The cat’s name was Pete, and one of his biggest dislikes was winter weather. He’d regularly ask to be let out of every available door in a building, convinced that behind one of them, there’d be a summer’s day.
All through the book, Pete accompanied his owner on his daring adventures and after all that excitement, feeling happy and relieved, I turned to the last page and read… Catsgrowold,and Petediedthatwinter.
What? No! Don’t write that! You take that back right now, you chirpy-quirky fiend! Eyes filling up, I read on…
Peteneverdidfindhis doortosummer.
See what I mean? Those two sentences had such an effect I’m still upset now, 30 years after first reading them.
I mention all this not just because I want to make readers cry but because I was reminded of Pete this week while looking after a very angry young cat named Dennis. Dennis is a Persian (like Grumpy-Cat), so it’s never easy to work out whether he’s absolutely livid or just happily going about his business. But during this run-up to Christmas, Dennis’s mood has visibly darkened.
The reason for his annoyance has been the worsening seasonal weather.
Like Pete, he’s convinced that there has to be better weather beyond one of his home’s many doors.
Unlike placid Pete, Dennis becomes extremely agitated at my inability to find it.
We have a routine on my visits – I open the front door, always clumsily knocking its newly mounted festive holly wreath to the floor, scattering mini baubles throughout the hallway, while Dennis glares, first at me, then at the baubles rolling his way, and finally at the weather outside.
He then turns away in contempt, bats the odd bauble away with an irritated paw-swipe, and marches to the back door, insisting I open it immediately.
I do so, and Dennis stares in disbelief. He looks up at me long and hard, the unspoken inference being “Catsitter – this weather is no better than the weather you’ve just shown me at the front door. What are you playing at?”
Dennis was not a happy cat. This held sway for five days… until something wonderful happened. I arrived in the rain and, after reattaching the holly wreath, we set off for the back door. As we walked I noticed encouraging light beginning to spread through the house, and when I opened the back door, we were greeted by the first rays of blazingly bright sunshine.
Dennis stared in wonder. He always knew it must be there somewhere! He’d found his door to summer!
In the run-up to Christmas, Dennis’s mood has darkened