The Cat Is Back!

by Michael White

  The Cat is Back!

  Michael White

  (Copyright © 2012)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. No piccalilli was eaten during the creation of this book. Just nuts.

  By The Same Author

  Paul McCartney’s Coat and Other Stories

  Tours of Note

  The Fae Wynrie

  Vallum Aelium

  The Greatest Virus of Them All

  Here Be Dragons

  The Road from Ballylaneen to Skellig Michael

  Liverpool

  Overboard!

  (Autumn 2012)

  About the Author.

  (Or... “It’s all about me.”)

  Ex-drummer, ex-software author and ex-flares wearer Michael White was born and lives in the north-west of England. In a previous life he was the author of many text adventure games that were popular in the early 1980’s. Realising that the creation of these games was in itself a form of writing, he has since made the move into self-publishing, resulting in many short stories and novellas. Covering an eclectic range of subjects the stories fall increasingly into that “difficult to categorise” genre, causing on-going headaches for the marketing department of his one man publishing company, Eighth Day Publishing.

  Having accidentally sacked his marketing director (himself) three times in the last two years, he has now retired to a nice comfortable room where, if he behaves himself, they leave him to write in peace.

  In his spare time (!) Michael likes to listen to all kinds of music, and is a big fan of Steven Moffat, whether he likes it or not.

  Michael is currently working on several new projects and can be contacted on the links below.

  Website: www.michaelkwhite.co.uk

  Email: mike.white2012@gmail.com

  Twitter: @mikewhite2011

  Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B006Y7JHCK

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/mikewhiteauthor

  The cat is back!

  The cat is back. I could not believe it but it really is. Instinct, I suppose. Yet I was still surprised. I suppose that it is best to say right here and now before I tell you all about what happened that I could never be described as any kind of animal lover. Some people are, some fawn on their pets, but not me. Do not get me wrong; however, I would most definitely never do any animal any harm. It is just that they are not for me. Dogs? You only have to see one constantly chasing a dropped stick to know that dogs are stupid. Cats? Well. Cats have a certain way of looking at things, don’t they? I just feel that a cat and I would never see eye to eye.

  I do not know who it was that said that dogs have masters and cats have staff, but I think they definitely got it spot on. Then there is the hunting. Cats seem to think that it is part of their daily remit to leave various dismembered small animals on your back step. Or worse, if you have a cat flap! I know to them it is pure instinct, and they do it without thinking, really. Nevertheless. No. Cats and I would definitely not get on at all.

  To begin my story at the start there is this cat at work. Now, where I work the building is surrounded by fields on three sides, a single small road leading out of the small industrial estate and up to a roundabout that connects with the main road. On two of these three sides there is nothing else beyond them but more fields. Very rural. The third side is where a row of houses back on to the car park, the small gardens of the houses hidden behind a run of a high wooden fence. To the side of the building there is a small bike shelter which is not used much. One bicycle normally. It also doubles up as the smoking shelter and it is where you will find me on my morning and afternoon breaks, as well as some portion of my lunch hour having a cigarette or two.

  Basically the building where I work sits in a great big field. On the two sides that are not backed on to by the small row of houses a long hedgerow runs the entire perimeter of our small car park. This is then also bordered by a long run of trees for most of the length of the hedgerow. It really is quite quaint, and I like to stand there having a cigarette and watching the seasons come and go, the sound of the traffic on the main row seeming quite distant. Very peaceful.

  I think it is fair to say that it is probably a cat’s idea of heaven. An infinite supply of mice, birds and God knows what else for it to track and hunt down. I even saw a fox there once, though I very much doubt that even the bravest cat would consider tackling that! But there is this cat. This particular cat. Little ginger thing it is. Every single day you see it wandering around the entire length of the hedgerows, on patrol. There does not seem to be a day go by without seeing it go flying past with a bird in its mouth. Or a mouse. I even think it had a weasel once. It always seems to catch something. The funny thing is it always heads back towards its house when it has caught something. Present for the household, probably! Now I know it is nature and that is quite normal. That is what happens. But it does not stop you wanting to stick your size nine boot up its ginger arse. Providing you could catch it of course. Nature is nature, I know, but when it is forced down your throat every single day by this little ginger monstrosity it starts to grate on your nerves quite a bit. I really do not like it at all.

  The strangest thing about it (and this is probably the main reason why I just do not like cats) is that it completely ignores your presence, sitting on its haunches waiting for a mouse or whatever to move, or a bird failing to spot it lurking in some of the patches of longer grass and then it is off again, racing past you with its newest catch hanging from its mouth. Five minutes later, said creature presumably dispatched, it is back out on patrol once again. I tried once, purely out of interest to stand in its way. I did not make any threatening gesture or noise and it literally just went around me, seemingly total oblivious to my presence! I may as well have been a bloody tree for all the notice it took of me. After a while this started to annoy me too. So what I started to do when I saw it was sneak up behind it and clap my hands loudly. This of course would startle it and it would run off but only a short distance. Then it would be back again.

  It was the middle of summer when I had a bright idea. It had for once been quite warm and I had my bottle of water with me whilst I was outside having my cigarette. It was my morning break so it would have been just before 10 O’clock or something like that. The cat was some way off, prowling about the hedgerow, pausing every now and again to have a good look into the bushes and then moving nearer to where I stood. Despite the fact that I had by now startled it several times it still made no recognition of my presence and continued to amble towards me. When it was about six feet away I uncapped my plastic water bottle and, squeezing the bottle shot a solid stream of water straight in to its face. Blimey! It must have shot about three foot in to the bloody air squealing like a bastard! It shot off across the car park, under one of the cars and made its way rapidly to the back of the houses and then disappeared in to one of the gardens. Which one I could not be exactly sure as there was a thick barrier of bushes that covered the length of the fence. it disappeared in to there.

  Well, I stood there roaring! Problem solved! I did not see the cat that lunch time, and it was conspicuous by its absence at my afternoon break. No sign of it the next day. Or the day after that. I began to enjoy my cigarette breaks once more, without having to endure a feline related killing spree every time that I went out there. Great! It was by now Friday and of course the office was closed every weekend. Off I went for my short break content that the hunting season was now well and truly closed.

  As it turned out it was quite an eventful weekend, for my partner quietly informed m
e upon my return that we had mice! Mouse droppings under the dish washer and some scraps we had left on a plate on the work top overnight having suddenly diminished as we slept. Just what we needed! So off I went out again and bought half a dozen mouse traps, used up the last of the cheese and placed the traps in what I considered to be good mouse catching locations about the kitchen.

  I was up early on Saturday morning - very early, in fact. I do not know whether it was I was keen to see if the traps had worked or not but I just could not get to sleep so up I got. When I put on the kitchen light however, I saw two of the mice suddenly scatter and disappear. It is quite unsettling really, seeing something like that so I stood there for a minute or two and then proceeded to check the traps. Nothing. Later on I informed my partner about what had happened - with predictable results, but I assured her that it was just a matter of time and so prepared to return to work on the Monday.

  Come Monday it was still sunny and off I went on my morning break to enjoy my cigarette. Guess what? The cat was back! The bloody thing was back! True it would not come anywhere near me now, but what it did instead was disappear inside the hedgerow to go past me, then re-appear once more when it considered itself to be safe. Then the hunt would continue. If it caught anything it did exactly the same thing with its prey in its mouth - in to the hedgerow, and back out again. Bloody thing!

  So I devised a plan.

  I knew that the cat did not like water - that was quite apparent! At home for the garden I had one of those pressure hoses linked to a big water container to do the watering. I had a great big long fence of hanging baskets so I had bought this as it sat on a small trolley - a bit like a shopping trolley, really. Quite handy. It contained a fair amount of water and did not need to be connected to a tap. I also collected a few other bits together and put them in the boot of the car.

  Now I knew that there would be nobody at work on a Saturday, the building being completely locked up so it was quite handy for what I had planned. I dropped my partner off at work and made my way to the office. It was quite strange pulling in to the car park as it was, of course, completely empty. I unloaded the boot and made my way around the corner of the building. This spot was ideal as it was completely concealed from everything, and as our office was at the end of a one way street there would not be any passers-by. I set about my business.

  As I worked I saw the cat at the back of the car park, emerging from the bushes (presumably from the back of one the houses) and setting out on its days hunting. I was quite far away and it did not notice me. I set everything up and concealed myself around the back of the building to wait. I did not have to wait long! There was a loud bang and I ran from where I was concealed to see if my trap had worked! As I rounded the corner all hell broke loose. It had worked! I strode up to the small cage I had rigged in to the tree and saw the spitting ginger fur ball caught firmly in the medium sized metal trap I had taken with me. No escape for the little sod!

  It was quite a small cage really so the cat could not turn around in it at all but it was hissing, and spitting and striking its paws against the bars of the cage as I approached. Do you know, it did not even had the grace to look scared! It did however look extremely pissed off.

  That was about to change.

  Pumping pressure in to the twenty gallon water bottle the cat sat spitting at me, the look on its face one of fury.

  Then I let it have it.

  Now as I already knew, cats do not like water. I cannot help but feel that this particular cat however will by now have developed quite a phobia about it. I soaked the little bastard. At first it squealed and hissed but eventually it went quieter and quieter as it got wetter and wetter. Twenty gallons is a LOT of water, believe you me, but I enjoyed every single drop of it. Unlike the cat, which by the time I had finished looked more like a drowned rat than a cat. Glorious! It even had the grace to be quiet, now and just sat there shivering looking totally demoralised.

  Then I let it go.

  I have never seen a cat - or indeed any domestic animal before or since move quite that fast! It shot across the car park wailing as it went and disappeared in to the gardens at the back of the trees. Chortling I packed up all my stuff - the now empty pressure bottle, the trap itself and stowed it all back in the boot. I felt greatly pleased with myself, and decided to have one last cigarette to “take in the moment” as it were before I drove home. Looking back now I can tell you that it worked. We have never seen the cat again, though I did once notice it sitting on a fence at the rear of the car park looking despondently across the hedgerows. Priceless!

  I seem to remember now that it was a lovely day, and as I stood on the grass smoking a great feeling of tranquillity descended upon me. I know that all of this may sound a bit obsessional, but at the time I felt totally justified in what I had done, and was quite at peace with myself.

  Which is when I noticed the small grey field mouse running towards me. It is quite an unusual thing to be scared by such a small creature but I did take a step backwards, and then settled again. Then another one ran towards me from the hedge row. Then another - and another. Then what looked like a small weasel - or was it a vole? Why I did not run I did not know. I think I may have been paralysed with fear - who knows?

  The first mouse was now about six feet in front of me and it stopped there, and I swear as I breathe it raised itself up on its back legs to look up at me then settled back on all fours again. Then more mice - small field creatures, small birds began to land on the grass. They formed a semi-circle about me now, with the by now possibly scores - or hundreds - they were arriving too quick to count - forming a fan shape behind the first grey mouse which stood alone in front of the gathered hoard as if waiting. Eventually the exodus of small woodland creatures ceased. In front of me a vast array of small creatures sat, regarding me, with the small grey mouse at its head.

  Silence fell.

  Then, incredibly as if by signal the grey mouse stood up on it’s hind legs once more and stared straight at me. It gave a small squeak.

  And then it bowed.

  The gathered array of creatures behind it then all stood on their legs, a ripple going through the crowd of small animals as they did so. Then they bowed too. The birds at the back of the large group dipped their wings and then, as soon as it began they stopped. Silence fell once more.

  Slowly they began to disperse back to the hedgerow, the birds flying away in to trees until the first grey mouse was the single remainder of the gathering. Then it too turned and was gone.

  I probably do not need to tell you that I was completely dumb founded and in serious need of a strong brandy when I eventually got home! I think I made it back from the office in record time that day!

  I decided to tell my partner what had happened when I collected her from work but somehow I never got round to it. It was not that much of an omission, for all she wanted to talk about was whether the mouse traps had worked or not and what was the next step if they did not work, and so forth. I am not afraid to admit that with all that had happened I had quite forgotten about the problem at home!

  The next morning I went downstairs in the dark full of trepidation. I was not sure what I would find, but when I put on the light, nothing. Checked the traps. All empty. No mouse droppings.

  Now all this happened quite some time ago, in fact looking back on it was probably twenty years, and do you know what? The cat never did come back!

  The other odd thing (if what had happened to me was not odd enough) was that I never ever saw another mouse at home ever again.

  Not one.

  SAMPLES

  There now follows a small advertising broadcast! I have included several snippets from some of my other stories for you to have a look at. Feel no obligation – browsing is more than welcome! If however you decide that you like what you see then all of the following are available either in the full version of, “Paul McCartney’s Coat and Other stories” (which contains ten short stories of varying lengths, paperba
ck size is just over 300 pages). They arew also available to purchase separately as well.

  The links are as follows:

  UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-White/e/B006Y7JHCK/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

  US: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-White/e/B006Y7JHCK/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

  I hope that you enjoy at least one of them and look forward to seeing you in the future.

  Michael White

  (27th January 2012)

  Paul McCartney’s Coat

  Old Todd was a right old card - I’ve never met a bloke before or since who was more up for a laugh, I can tell you! But now he’s gone and passed over I can tell you a secret he told me years ago, and as far as I know, I think probably it’s only him and me that knows all about it. Course, he ain’t telling now so it’s up to me. This is what he did.

  Best place to start would be with the music. Todd was a bugger for it. Rock and roll, pop. Strictly sixties stuff. None of this bloody head banging boom boom boom that seems to be all you can get these days. No idea what’s going on in kid’s heads listening to that kind of crap! Gives me a right old headache, it does. No, for Todd It had to be sixties music. Golden age, he called it, and he had no shift at all with anything that came after that. Used to get misty eyed about it, he did. Yeah, music was his thing, and he had a particular soft spot for the Beatles. He knew all the tunes, had all the albums. This was back in the days when they were proper albums you had to put on a turntable to play , and if he’d had a few he would sing along to all of their songs, word perfect. Not note perfect, I’d say! But that was Todd for you, though. Dead keen on the songs even if he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket!

  Went to all the concerts too, he did. Not for the Beatles like, they hadn’t been in front of an audience for at least a year, and even that was in America. Nice work if you can get as far as I can see, but he said he remembered the early days and he had seen them once or twice back then. I think the way he looked at it was once they got popular you couldn’t even hear then playing because of the God awful row of all the girls screaming at them. Pretty much ruined it for Todd did that. Course it looks like it ruined it for them as well!