The key works its magic smoothly this afternoon as I step into the pristine hallway and I slip my FitFlops off on the coir matting as I come in out of the storm not wanting to leave a wet footprint on the off white carpet as I proceed . Ms Bow Tie is sitting quizzically in the inner hall watching me and she greets me rather more effusively than usual . Hello ? I say to her and look for her pal who is nowhere to be seen . As I peek round doors noting the absence of ginger hairs I realise that there is a distinct absence of Ms GingerNut ( the only female ginger cat I have ever met , and large enough to be a tomcat at that ) ... Where's Ginge then ? I ask and Ms BT tilts her head to one side and points in the direction of the kitchen . We head in there but alas she is merely hinting that a food bowl needs washing and replenishing and thereafter a Full Search can properly be mounted .
I note the absence too of a litter tray and wonder if Mr has left in a rush , which has been known . My heart misses a beat as I note the car in the drive , perhaps he is still in situ upstairs, perhaps resting quietly before a flight or a difficult meeting .... now that would be Tricky , especially as I am taking his cats' names in vain . Seems unlikely however , the silence and the ticking of the clock and the sheer peace and quiet are blissfully overwhelming .
And the tidiness , and the air of order .... but where is the litter tray , and the second cat ? They must be found . It is imperative . No use a tidy house if the cat must leave her mark in the bathtub , say , or worse should the bathrooms all be out of bounds , on the off white carpets . My stain removal techniques are second to non but are more accustomed to the pale blue we favour chez nous . ( and indeed are somewhat out of practice since D took over in that dept ) .
I step through the sitting room and open the patio doors and out into the garden , sans Fit Flops , having left them at the front door . Things are awash , thanks to the storm , so I pick my way across the lawn to the garage in search of The Things I Need and as I enter , a streak flashes past me and there , in front of me is a litter tray ! Bingo !
I feel thoroughly competent , trusted , left in charge in the manner of an upmarket Personal Assistant , or perhaps an efficient Housekeeper ( perhaps with a postmodern title , unimaginable to the likes of me, a mere CatCaller ) .
Mr had not left in a rush and forgotten the cats business , he had merely anticipated my arrival bang on time , knowing that I would see the need and fulfil it even before the cat did . There was no sense in which the cat had legs crossed , indeed she ate a languid supper before strolling out onto the lawn to sniff about preferring the outside facilities to the emergency ones provided by myself for later use . What a cat ! What a team !
I wait until the cats decide whether they wish to stay in or brave the impending rain ( the chose In ) so I inform them of my ETA tomorrow . They turn tail and saunter upstairs and I overtake them to close the master bedroom door . I am fairly certain there must be a rule about that particular white duvet cover though the remaining rooms are fair game . If not a rule I am inventing one . That after all is what good CatCallers are all about .
I return home and scrutinise my own Reception Rooms Carpets . It is time some of them went . A discussion ensues about Rules regarding Drinks , should new carpets be purchased . I think we have reached agreement .
I note the absence too of a litter tray and wonder if Mr has left in a rush , which has been known . My heart misses a beat as I note the car in the drive , perhaps he is still in situ upstairs, perhaps resting quietly before a flight or a difficult meeting .... now that would be Tricky , especially as I am taking his cats' names in vain . Seems unlikely however , the silence and the ticking of the clock and the sheer peace and quiet are blissfully overwhelming .
And the tidiness , and the air of order .... but where is the litter tray , and the second cat ? They must be found . It is imperative . No use a tidy house if the cat must leave her mark in the bathtub , say , or worse should the bathrooms all be out of bounds , on the off white carpets . My stain removal techniques are second to non but are more accustomed to the pale blue we favour chez nous . ( and indeed are somewhat out of practice since D took over in that dept ) .
I step through the sitting room and open the patio doors and out into the garden , sans Fit Flops , having left them at the front door . Things are awash , thanks to the storm , so I pick my way across the lawn to the garage in search of The Things I Need and as I enter , a streak flashes past me and there , in front of me is a litter tray ! Bingo !
I feel thoroughly competent , trusted , left in charge in the manner of an upmarket Personal Assistant , or perhaps an efficient Housekeeper ( perhaps with a postmodern title , unimaginable to the likes of me, a mere CatCaller ) .
Mr had not left in a rush and forgotten the cats business , he had merely anticipated my arrival bang on time , knowing that I would see the need and fulfil it even before the cat did . There was no sense in which the cat had legs crossed , indeed she ate a languid supper before strolling out onto the lawn to sniff about preferring the outside facilities to the emergency ones provided by myself for later use . What a cat ! What a team !
I wait until the cats decide whether they wish to stay in or brave the impending rain ( the chose In ) so I inform them of my ETA tomorrow . They turn tail and saunter upstairs and I overtake them to close the master bedroom door . I am fairly certain there must be a rule about that particular white duvet cover though the remaining rooms are fair game . If not a rule I am inventing one . That after all is what good CatCallers are all about .
I return home and scrutinise my own Reception Rooms Carpets . It is time some of them went . A discussion ensues about Rules regarding Drinks , should new carpets be purchased . I think we have reached agreement .
3 comments:
A regular Feline Nanny McPhee!
Y'know, my orange cat is a male, as was the one I had when I was a kid. I don't think I've ever met a female orange cat - never thought about it before, but obviously they must exist. Rare?
Nanny McPhee ... hmm wasnt she a right old harridan ?
I think the ginger females are not often seen , there a genetic name for it which eludes me this morning , must look it up later !
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