A Cat Called Merlot

Thursday June 11th 2020 

With the relaxation of lock-down, Queenie has shopped online for emergency, temporary trousers, due to overindulgence during COVID. Apparently, this involves buying cheaper garments in the size above her “normal” one so she can continue to breathe, until she loses weight. She’s quite relieved she hasn’t yet managed to meet any of the men she’s been talking to online, as it gives her time to get rid of her ‘excess’  and at least be able to view her feet once again, from a standing position. Online, she’s positioned the camera so that she’s only visible above her waist and is a bit worried that the ten year old profile photo of herself she posted, was perhaps stretching the truth. “Never mind, Merlot,” she says, giving me a wink, “I’ll wing it with extra cleavage!”

Marcus Briggs from Number 18 is at home, as usual. He’s semi-retired but works part-time as a web site designer. Lockdown hasn’t made much difference to him, as he doesn’t go out much, anyhow. I go and visit him quite regularly, when I want quiet, gentle company and I know he likes me to pop in. He picks me up and gives me a kiss on the top of the head, which I tolerate. Normally, Queenie is the only person who has that privilege, or her mother Lydia, who’s as potty as a gerbil on a wheel. Marcus’s house is straight out of the nineteen eighties, which was when his partner Reggie passed away from AIDS and Marcus’s life came to a standstill. He has a particular liking for pastel fabrics, arum lilies and uplighter lamps. Normally, we sit in the living room, on the white leather sofa and listen to Judy Garland tracks while he sobs to “Somewhere Over The Rainbow.” It brings a lump to my throat but I’m never sure how to deal with raw, human emotion. Dogs, who love to absorb human misery, are much better at outward displays of empathy. I sit next to him and awkwardly stretch my paw out and rest it on his knee, making sure my claws are retracted. He sniffs, blows his nose noisily and says, “Okay Merlot, this won’t get the roast done will it?”  We both cheer up enormously, when the chicken emerges, like magic from the oven and we tuck in. Marcus is wearing his favourite t shirt, with the words “Choose Life” on it, which is a little ironic, as he’s all but given up on it himself. He and Queenie are however good friends and pre-COVID, she would go and spend evenings with him, watching Cagney & Lacy and M*A*S*H DVD’s, getting drunk on Alabama Slammer cocktails and eating Vienetta ice cream. I’d always wait up to make sure she got home safely and generally found her staggering down the road around midnight, falling into hedges and crashing into wheelie bins. 

Aircraft have been in the news again, this week. Personally, I’m not unhappy planes have been grounded and hotels shut, as I always associate them with suitcases and the dreaded cattery. I think however, I’ve managed to kick that into the long grass as I’ve as good as been invited NOT to go back to the local, deluxe one with its heated-pens-overlooking-a-large-fish-pond. Queenie tried me there shortly after I moved in with her but I wasn’t on my best behaviour whilst she was away as I spat at every cat that went past my pen. 

“He’s quite vocal, isn’t he?” Commented the cat-loving owner, who within a week, had developed bags under his eyes and looked as though he’d aged by a decade. As he sprinted over-enthusiastically to the office to get my basket he called, over his shoulder, “He cried for the entire time you were away!” A bit of an exaggeration I felt, despite the fact that by the end of it, I’d completely lost my voice. 

“He might be happier with someone coming into his own home to feed him?” He suggested, as I slinked into the basket, whilst Queenie paid the bill. 

I don’t know if it was my imagination but I could swear I heard the sound of a cork popping out of a bottle, the chink of glasses and a cheer from the other cat pens, as we reversed away from the cattery, back down the drive. As I sat quietly in my basket, Queenie gave me a reassuring stroke through the grill on the front. I wished I could have told her I’d have behaved better if I’d known she’d return for me.