A CAT CALLED MERLOT

Thursday 3rd December

On Tuesday evening, I returned, exhausted as usual, from my daily visit to see Marjorie, to find Queenie on the telephone to the man from the Cattery. To cut a very long story short, he thought he’d recognised me and phoned to ask if I’d been disappearing every day for several hours. Queenie confirmed I had and she’d wondered what I’d been up to. Things looked as though they were about to get tricky but he went on to tell her how I’d been sitting outside Marjorie’s pen, in all weather and how she seemed a much happier cat when I was around. The rest of the time she refused point blank, to eat or drink. By the time the call had ended, Queenie had that thoughtful look on her face, that generally meant something was about to happen. The next thing I knew, she was on the phone to the hospital to see how Judith was getting on. Apparently, she knew the ward Sister and Queenie asked her to ask Judith if she would like her to bring Marjorie home to stay with us, until she was well enough to leave hospital. It turned out she was ‘over the moon’ and I did a race around the flat and a summersault with joy.  Queenie looked at me and said with a twinkle in her eye, “Right Merlot, your girlfriend is coming to stay but I want you to behave yourselves AND you can both lay off the cat nip, right?” To say thank you, I jumped on her lap and head-butted her, purring loudly, until she pushed me away, laughing. 

Meanwhile, back in The Avenue, the on-line rehearsals for the COVID Christmas choir concert for the residents of The Last Gasp Rest Home, were not going quite to Jeff’s plan. While Mrs Waters from Number 21 was a perfect Soprano, the rest of the recruits could barely sing a note in tune. Unfortunately, they believed they had perfect pitch and ploughed on, enthusiastically performing a version of Silent Night, that was barely recognisable. Carol, Jeff’s wife, suggested it wouldn’t matter very much as the residents could just turn off their hearing aids or turn up the TV and in any case, it was the community gesture that was important. 

And speaking of community; I noticed Gideon Longfellow had padlocked his new sleeping pod “Jonah” to the park railings on double yellow lines. In response, two over-zealous traffic wardens had ticketed him, which caused uproar in The Avenue. One by one, the neighbours gathered in a socially distanced, masked stand-off, worthy I might say of the best of Westerns, until the wardens hastily withdrew the ticket and turned and rode (I mean walked, with attitude), back towards town. 

On Wednesday afternoon, Marjorie arrived, looking very regal in her cat carrier. British Blues have great presence and she is no exception. When she saw me, she let out a big meow and her purrs could surely be heard in the next town. I brought her up to date with events and we both ate a nice meal and settled down in front of the fire. Marjorie said she was worried that when she was taken away, I’d find someone else but I reassured her I’m completely monoga-mouse. It was as they say, ‘A very happy ending’, especially as I overheard Queenie telling Marcus from Number 18, that Judith was responding well to the COVID treatment and was expected to be home within a week. As I gazed at Marjorie by the light of the fire, I had a feeling the next chapter of our lives was going to be quite eventful…