A Cat Called Merlot

Thursday 21st May 2020

I’ve just been down to Number 16 to see my friend Alfred. He’s eighty-nine and chats a lot to himself. To be fair, there’s nobody else to talk to given the world is still pretty much in lockdown. I often pop in to see how he’s doing knowing he’ll have a packet of treats to entice me in. He’s lived in the road for nearly forty years and sometimes we sit on the sofa together watching the snooker. I listen to him chattering on about the war and how life was better then and I can see, from his perspective, how it might well have been. I’m particularly fascinated that he takes his teeth out after meals to wash them under the kitchen tap.  I sit on the draining board and watch, with interest, as his mouth sort of collapses into a sucked-in, wrinkly “o”, then returns to normal when he puts them back in. It makes me chuckle, every time. 

When I return home, Queenie is getting ready for a COVI-DATE. Apparently that involves chatting remotely, to men that she can’t really meet, except in a park when nobody else is around and they might be wearing a mask…Hmm? I wander through the flat to find her doing her make up and taking selfies to see how she looks on the screen. “What do you think, Merlot?” She asks as I jump on the bed to get my head rubbed. I would like to reply: “Too much lipstick and too little fur, for my taste,” but that might give her a heart attack and, despite people thinking cats don’t invest, I’m actually very fond of her. In response, I purr and she pouts. Eventually she remembers to feed me. I’m given a sachet of tuna flavour but I fancy beef so I stare at my bowl, then back up at her, then back at my bowl. She ignores the hint, so tonight I will be dining at Number 22, where the cat flap does not contain a chip and the food is gourmet. It’s annoying really, as I don’t fancy going out. 

On my way to 22, I deviate and wander up to Number 36, the home of the Wright-Smiths. They are the purrrfect family. At least you would think so, if you met them. They have two nicely brought up children, Oliver and Emelia who are practicing mindfulness whilst being home-schooled, during Covid. This evening, as I pass through the garden I see Mrs Wright-Smith (Saffron) is baking bread and making the family sing songs to get their endorphin levels up and increase positivity. Mr Wright-Smith (Luke) can’t wait to get back to his job in the City and get away from them all. Out of sight of his wholesome wife, he can escape from responsibly-sourced-wholefood and indulge in a crafty burger and chips at lunchtime. I only know this from his text messages to his work colleagues and rather unsettling doodles on the writing pad in his study. Saffron won’t let the children have ‘pets’ but she’s happy for me to pop in every now and again and I love having a good nose around.

Having eaten, I sit on the wall of Number 27 to incite the stupid dogs into a frenzy. They oblige and my work here is done.