Molly And The Cat Cafe

4

The engine revved into life, and I felt the car slide off Margery’s driveway. In an effort to stay calm, I began to observe my surroundings, trying to ignore the hunger pangs telling me that it was almost my dinner time. I circled round and round inside the cat carrier, trying to find a position that allowed me to see the car’s rear windscreen, but the deepening dusk outside meant that all I could make out was the strobing flash of street lamps. Eventually, realizing anything else was futile, I crouched down on the floor of the carrier, with my feet tucked neatly underneath my body, and tried to let the hum and vibration of the engine lull me to sleep.

I must have fallen into a light doze, for I was woken by an incessant bleeping noise from the front of the car that I recognized as David’s mobile phone. I heard David swear.

‘Pat, I’m driving. Hang on – I’ll put you on handsfree.’

I could make out the tinny sound of a woman’s voice on the line. I had met David’s wife Pat on a few occasions, back when she and David used to come for Sunday lunch at Margery’s with their children. She had struck me as a pleasant woman, if somewhat worn down by the demands of two boisterous children and a husband whose emotional level seemed permanently set to ‘stressed’.

‘How’s Mum doing?’ David asked.

‘She’s not too bad. We’ve unpacked and she’s having a cup of tea in the residents’ lounge. You know what she’s like, though, how she gets fixated on things. She keeps asking about the cat, wanting to know when you’ll be bringing her.’

My heart leapt with excitement. Could this whole horrendous ordeal be about to end with an ecstatic reunion at Margery’s new home?

David tutted loudly.

‘For God’s sake, I’ve been through this a million times with her. I’ve explained that she can’t have pets there. She knows that.’

‘I know, David,’ Pat answered, her tone placatory. ‘I’ve reminded her of that today as well. She nods, like she’s taking it in, but I don’t know if she’s really understood.’ There was a short silence before she added, ‘I’ve put a photo of the cat on her bedside table, next to the photo of your dad, but I’m not sure if that’s just going to make her worse.’

I felt as if my heart was going to burst with sorrow. Not for myself, and the crushing disappointment that we were not to be reunited after all, but for Margery. To think of her in strange surroundings, scared and confused – not just wanting but needing me – was almost more than I could bear.

David groaned. ‘Maybe it will – how should I know? Hopefully she’ll settle down soon and forget all about the bloody cat. I dunno, Pat. As if it wasn’t stressful enough having to rehome my mother, now I’ve got to rehome her sodding cat too!’

Inside the plastic carrier, my fur bristled.

‘I’m on my way to Rob’s now, to drop her off. I’ve told Rob I owe him a pint for taking her,’ David added, and my ears pricked up. I had never heard of Rob before, but by the sound of it, he was to be my new owner.

David finished the phone call and the rest of the journey passed in silence. I tried to keep track of how long we had been driving. I could see it was dark outside now and, judging from the ache in my stomach, it was at least an hour past my dinner time. Occasionally I let out a yowl, which was met with a curt ‘Shut up, cat!’ from the front seat, so after a while I gave up.

Eventually I felt the car slow down and pull to a halt. I instinctively burrowed as far back inside the carrier as I could, trying to make myself as small and inconspicuous as possible. The rational part of me knew it was pointless to try and hide, but my self-preservation instinct kicked in nonetheless.

I heard David get out of the car, slamming the door behind him. With my nose pressed against the back wall of the carrier, I listened to the sounds outside. The creak of a gate opening, David’s footsteps on a path, then a door knocker being rapped twice. My fur stood on end as the knocking was swiftly followed by barking.

Trying to ignore my thumping heartbeat, I focused on attempting to discern how many different barks I could hear. It sounded like three: one deep and powerful bark, plus two higher-pitched, yappier ones. Before I had time to visualize what kind of dogs might produce such noises, the car boot was flung open. I felt someone grab the carrier’s handle and yank it out of the car so roughly that I lost my footing and slid across the floor, so that my rear end was pressed against the bars at the front. I quickly spun round, bracing myself to face my next trauma head-on.

As I was carried up the path I heard David say, ‘Cheers, mate. You’re really helping me out here.’

We were now inside a front hall, and I had been placed on the doormat. Suddenly there seemed to be dogs everywhere, charging at me from all sides. The plastic carrier offered some protection, but I could see noses and slobbering mouths trying to press through the bars at the front, and countless legs seemed to pace around as they tried to find a way to get to me. The dogs’ stale, smelly breath filled the carrier, making me want to retch. My back was arched and I hissed and spat with every ounce of my being, trying to warn my tormentors to back off.

‘She’ll have to get used to the dogs,’ a man’s voice – presumably Rob’s – said, somewhat apologetically. That, I thought ruefully, was an understatement. ‘We used to have a cat, so they should be okay with her,’ he went on hopefully, but, to my mind, not very convincingly, ‘although Nancy did disappear, after I got Stan. One minute she was hissing at him from the top of the fridge, the next minute she’d vanished into thin air – never came back. The vet was quite cross with me about that,’ he added with a sigh, evidently dwelling on the injustice of being blamed for the previous cat’s disappearance.

Every hair on my body was standing on end, and I’m ashamed to admit that any concern for Margery’s fate had gone from my mind. My only thought was the realization that I was about to be left in a house with three dogs. Dogs with a track record of forcing cats to run away.