The truth about Cats & Dogs

‘He didn’t say anything,’ said Dog. Cat stretched, then curled up contentedly.

‘He didn’t say anything,’ repeated Dog. ‘He always says, “Daddy’s going out’’.’ Dog shook his head with worry. ‘He didn’t say anything. He should have said something.’ Dog paced around Cat. ‘Stop fretting,’ said Cat, half asleep. ‘It’s my job to fret,’ Dog replied. ‘Daddy always explains he’s going out when he leaves the house. He didn’t say anything this time. Something’s wrong.’

Dog moved to the window, staring hopefully at the driveway. Speaking over his shoulder he said, ‘Do you suppose he has left us? Who’s going to get our food?’

Cat was engrossed in planning her forthcoming outdoor expedition. She ignored Dog’s ramblings.

‘That must be it. He’s leaving us… Cat. Cat,’ he implored. ‘You’ve got to go out and find him.’ Dog returned to Cat’s bed, and gingerly nosed her, hopping back smartly in anticipation of claws being deployed by Cat. ‘Leave me alone,’ said Cat. ‘You have to go,’ said Dog. ‘I’m too big for the cat flap.’

‘I’m not going anywhere. If you prod me again, you’ll regret it.’

Dog retreated to the window; brow furrowed in thought. This mental effort bore no fruit, so he pounced on his squeaky squirrel and shook it in frustration, then returned to the window.

‘It must be something I’ve done,’ he said, forlornly. After a while, a thought struck him, ‘Am I a nuisance?’ ‘ Yes,’ replied Cat. His worst fear confirmed, Dog paced between front door, window and Cat. ‘How am I a nuisance?’ asked Dog, keen to understand. ‘Just two ways’, said Cat. ‘Just two?’ Dog perked up, encouraged by Cat’s advice. ‘Two ways. That’s nothing. I can be allowed just two ways to be annoying. What are those ways Cat? Tell me.’

‘Everything you say and everything you do,’ explained Cat.

Dog pondered this advice, eventually concluding that Cat wasn’t being serious.

Cat sighed. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll get any peace until you calm down. Let’s talk this through. Did you

THAT MUST BE IT – HE’S LEAVING US… YOU’VE GOT TO FIND HIM

notice anything different these last few days?’

‘Different?’ It was almost pitiful watching Dog agonise over the question. ‘ What could be different? Walkies and food were at the usual times.’

Cat persevered. ‘ What about other times? What has Daddy been doing out of the ordinary? Think.’

‘Other times. I don’t much notice other times. I’m mostly asleep. Other times… You mean, the Noisy Machine?’

‘Yes,’ Cat confirmed, Daddy had been hoovering. ‘And…?’

Cat allowed the silence to do the heavy lifting. Dog managed to drag up a few more recollections. ‘He’s been in the way a lot, shooing me around – messing about in all the rooms, with cloths and brushes – and moving things…’

‘Tidying…’ said Cat.

‘… And putting stuff in and out of the other Noisy Machines…’

‘… Washing machine and tumble drier…’ helped Cat.

‘… And doing things upstairs. Going up and down stairs with stuff…’

‘Changing the bed sheets…’ confirmed Cat. ‘Anything else? Look around.’

Dog surveyed his surroundings, as instructed. It struck him. ‘ Where is all the… clutter?’

‘Gone,’ explained Cat. ‘The furniture is all clean and tidy, but all the bottles, plates and stuff has been tidied up.’

‘Of course,’ said Dog. ‘ What does this mean?’ ‘ What do you think it means?’ You could almost hear Dog’s mental machinery grinding away at this task. ‘Something’s different!’

‘That’s where we started,’ Cat replied patiently.

‘ Why is it different? What is the reason for Daddy behaving like this?’

Try as he might, Dog couldn’t come up with any theories. ‘If only Mummy was here,’ he mused sadly. ‘Everything made sense in those days.’

Neither spoke for a while, struck by this new, wistful mood.

‘I expect she left because of me as well. Everyone leaves because of me,’ said Dog dejectedly.

‘You were definitely a nuisance in those days,’ observed Cat.

‘I was a puppy and I was big. Of course I was a nuisance.’

‘You were naughty and disobedient. I had to scratch you many times to calm you down. And you wouldn’t listen to her. Mummy tried to train you. You wouldn’t even give her your paw. Every puppy gives a paw.’

Dog pressed against the window, adding to the patch of nose stains. He drew in a large breath.

‘Please don’t bark,’ requested Cat politely.

Dog exhaled. ‘How did you know I was going to bark?’

‘You bark like a silly-arse whenever you want attention. Which is pointless when I am the only other person present, and Daddy can’t hear you. If you have nothing to say, say nothing.’

And there the matter rested for an hour. Cat snoozed. Dog wiped his nose liberally around the window pane while staring at the last point he had seen the car as it left.

Dog’s eyes were becoming heavy. He nearly missed the car pulling into the driveway. He jumped up and down, all four legs at a time as though on springs. ‘He’s back. He’s back. Daddy’s back.’

In his excitement, he injudiciously batted Cat across her back with his paw, earning him a swipe from

DOG’S EYES WERE GETTING HEAVY – HE ALMOST MISSED THE CAR

Cat’s claws.

‘Of course he’s back. Calm down,’admonished Cat.

Dog ran to the door, then realised he could see more from the window, so he returned to that vantage point.

‘Hold on,’ said Dog. ‘There’s someone else in the car.’ His nose compressed like a concertina in a futile attempt to get closer. Then his body jerked in recognition. ‘Cat. Cat. Cat. It’s… It’s…’ A sudden calm came over him, as though his reaction was almost beyond excitement. ‘It’s Mummy,’ he whispered reverently.

‘OK,’ said Cat, unmoved, having calculated that this development would make no change whatsoever to her life. ‘Have they opened the boot?’

‘ Who cares? She’s back. Mummy’s back.’ Dog jumped to new heights. Then shot to the door, figuring that this would be the next arena of action.

Meanwhile, Cat was calmly stretching and licking herself, not allowing the drama to interfere with her routines. She added, ‘It’s just that suitcases and bags would indicate she is here to stay.’

Dog flew to the window in a blur reminiscent of Wile E Coyote in pursuit of the Road Runner. ‘Yes, the boot is opening,’ he reported. ‘There must be bags. There are bags, lots of bags.’.He returned to the hall, quivering with anticipation, almost cross-eyed, focussing on the door knob.

Cat strolled into the hall. ‘Back off,’ she instructed. ‘I will be first to greet her.’

Dog didn’t question her authority He reversed to the rear of the hall, eyes never leaving the door.

Dog nearly exploded with excitement as Mummy and Daddy entered the house.

‘Give me a moment,’ said Cat to Dog, as she ingratiated herself around the humans’ legs while initiating her loudest purr.

Dog quivered, then lowered his head in respect and subservience as Mummy approached. Bending down and smiling, she reached out to stroke Dog.

Summoning up all his self-control, instead of jumping up, dog slowly, falteringly lifted his paw, which fell naturally into Mummy’s hand as it came towards him. ‘Thank you,’ she said. Dog and Cat relaxed. Mummy’s back.

‘There you are, Dempster,’ the vet withdrew the needle. ‘All finished. You are rather a big boy though,’ she added. The black cat clambered back into his basket, tail lashing.

Chloe bit her lip. ‘Yes, the trouble is he’s so greedy and Steve, that’s my husband, will give him titbits. I found a chewed pizza crust under the table yesterday.’

‘Not good! We’ve got a new diet product that might help reduce his weight. Pounce Tender Morsels. It could take years off him.’

‘Maybe I should try it then,’ Chloe laughed.

Chloe heaved the cat basket out of the car. A removal van was parked next door. The new neighbours, she thought. I hope they’re cat lovers.

Dempster gave his Pounce Tender Morsels a disdainful sniff, then licked the bowl clean. That evening he climbed on to the back of the sofa.

‘He hasn’t done that for ages,’ said Chloe.

‘That new cat food must be doing you the power of good,’ said Steve, reaching up to scratch under Dempster’s chin.

‘Steve! Quick! Dempster’s up a tree,’ called Chloe.

They stared out of the kitchen window. A black cat was clawing his way up the steep trunk of the oak tree, his tail circling to keep his balance, his eyes round and wild.

Chloe screwed hers shut, ‘ Whatever is he doing? He’s 12 years old, for goodness’ sake.’ Steve scratched his head. ‘Maybe we should cut down on that Pounce stuff.’

Upstairs, in the spare room’s chest, nestled in a drawer of towels and pillowcases, Dempster slept, paws twitching.

Chloe and Steve were sweeping-up leaves in the back garden. Chloe leant on her rake, watching a squirrel bury an acorn. Suddenly the squirrel leapt in the air and raced, a ripple of grey fur, up the garden. Close behind was a black cat. The squirrel vanished over the fence. ‘No, Dempster, stop!’ shouted Chloe. The black cat slunk off and disappeared into a blackcurrant bush.

Upstairs, in the drawer, Dempster’s eyes opened. He registered Chloe’s shout. But his stomach was still round and full. Not teatime then. He closed his eyes.

Chloe woke with a start. A dreadful squealing was coming from the garden. She prodded Steve awake and crept to the bedroom window. On the lawn was a somersaulting heap of black and orange fur. The squealing rose to a piercing wail.

‘Steve!’ she spun round to the slumbering heap in the bed, ‘Dempster’s fighting!’

A grunt came from under the duvet. Chloe flung open the window. The two cats sprang apart.

‘Stop that fighting, Dempster!’ Chloe hissed.

Steve pulled the duvet over his head. ‘ We’re definitely giving him too much of that vet stuff.’

In the drawer Dempster stretched out. He unhooked a claw from a pink fluffy towel. Good, they were up. Not long till breakfast then.

Chloe stared out of the kitchen window. ‘I can’t stand much more of this, Steve.’

It was a stormy Saturday afternoon. Wind was bending the trees and blowing the fallen leaves into mini tornadoes. One tall tree was swaying violently. At the top clung a black cat, his four paws wrapped around a branch, his tail hanging down like a monkey’s.

‘Blimey,’ said Steve. ‘ We could sell him to a circus.’

‘I can’t bear to look,’ said Chloe. The wind was whooshing the black cat from side to side. He swung to and fro, his fur blown into rosettes like a guinea pig’s. His ears were flat against his head. ‘He’s stuck, Steve! You’ll have to get the ladder.’

Steve swallowed. But before he could reach the back door, the black cat jumped to a lower branch and, paw over paw, descended to the ground. He stopped briefly to wash his leg, then ran off into the undergrowth.

Upstairs, in his cosy drawer, Dempster also washed his leg.

Chloe was sickening for a cold. She switched off her laptop, Those reports could jolly well wait, and took herself off to bed. ‘Bring me a hot drink, could you Steve, love?’ she croaked.

Tucked up with the electric blanket and a mug of Ribena, she gazed out into the garden. Dempster was crouched in a shaft of late sunlight, his shadow dark behind him. Or was it his shadow? It seemed to be moving of its own accord. Chloe felt her forehead. Yes, she was a bit feverish, perhaps she was hallucinating. She craned her neck. But there were two black cats, both rather large, in the garden.

‘Steve,’ she called feebly, ‘come and

THAT NEW CAT FOOD MUST BE DOING YOU THE POWER OF GOOD

have a look at this.’

Steve leant close to the window, blinking. ‘I must get my eyes tested. I’m seeing double.’ ‘No, Steve, there are two.’ Dempster looked up at the window. He got to his feet and strolled towards the kitchen door. They might want to feed him.

‘That’s definitely Dempster,’ said Chloe.

Chloe came downstairs in her dressing gown to watch TV. Dempster heaved himself onto her lap.

‘Strange he’s not quite so agile indoors,’ said Steve, flicking through the remote.

Chloe nodded. ‘And outside he’s so different.’

‘He’s been up to all sorts of tricks since you started him on that Pounce stuff.’

‘Mm,’ said Chloe thoughtfully, smoothing down Dempster’s fur, ‘yes, he’s been a changed cat…’

By Saturday Chloe was feeling better. She joined Steve in planting some daffodil bulbs. Dempster sat in a patch of sunlight, supervising.

There was a thump as another cat, black and athletic, leapt on to the fence. Dempster stared at it, his eyes narrow.

‘Oh, sorry. I hope our cat’s not making a nuisance of himself,’ came a voice from next door’s garden. A young woman in a tracksuit leant over the fence. ‘Hello. I’m Emma and this is our cat, Rocky.’

‘Rocky, eh?’ Chloe scratched behind the new cat’s ears, ‘So you’re Dempster’s stunt double, are you?’

She explained the events of the last couple of weeks. ‘ We thought the special food we’d got from the vet’s

THERE WAS A THUMP AS ANOTHER CAT LEAPT ON TO THE FENCE

was giving him a new lease of life. It cost enough,’ she added.

‘I thought he was going to join the Paras,’ said Steve.

‘And all the time it was your Rocky,’ said Chloe, smiling.

‘I suppose all black cats do look a bit the same from a distance,’ said Emma.

‘Hang on,’ said Steve, ‘so while Rocky was doing all that climbing and racing about where was our Dempster?’

‘I think I can guess,’ said Chloe. ‘The bottom drawer in the spare room is covered in black fur.’

‘A-ha,’ said Steve. ‘ Well it’s a relief we don’t have to worry about poor old Dempster overdoing it any more.’

Dempster stared at him. Hang on, not so much of the old. And if they carried on giving him that new food who knows what he might do in the future?