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Thursday’s Cat has far to go – before he comes back!

Today is Max’s 17th day after going AWOL.  This morning I had a call from the village shop where a poster had been left.  Did I know, the woman asked, that my poster is in one window and a found poster for a ginger and white cat is in the other?  Now this should have boosted my hopes that my wandering furry boy had been found.  Unfortunately it didn’t.  I remembered a call I had received on my mobile a couple of days after Max had gone missing.  It was from someone at the far end of the next village who told me a ginger and white cat had been lurking in their garden for a few days.  Very sensibly he took a photo of it and then dropped into the village vet to compare it with the poster I’d left.  Not the same cat unfortunately and after consideration the distance travelled was quite a way, even for a fit feline.  So sadly I had to explain to the woman in the shop that the posters were for two completely different cats.

There’s been so many highs and lows here; a sighting on Saturday where we missed the cat in question by minutes (cats do have this awful inconvenient habit of not staying in one place, even if they are curled up asleep at the time they are spotted!)  And then last night.  Steve was upstairs on the main computer and I was downstairs on the laptop, firmly plugged in to my iPod, oblivious of the doorbell.  When Steve eventually came down to answer it he found our next door neighbour on the doorstep proudly announcing that he’d found Max.  Unfortunately the cat in his arms was Billy, one of my cats’ holiday mother’s animals.  Billy, or Bilbo Baggins which is his full name, is 12 and looks more like Shaun the Sheep than a cat.  He is like a huge furry ball on legs and far bigger than Max.  Not only was he the wrong cat, he’d decided he wasn’t at all amused at being grabbed without so much as a by-your-leave and set about embedding his claws in our neighbour’s arm.  He let go immediately with a yelp of pain and off Billy ran, stopping at the end of the driveway to give our neighbour the evil eye before making his way home.

I’m still convinced the prodigal will return – I just have that feeling he’s out there somewhere.  It’s a shame cats can’t talk as I’m sure when he does eventually decide to put in an appearance his adventures would make a great childrens’ book!


Directs fictional destinies. Living on the edge of a wonderful Georgian city. Addicted to Arthurian legend, good wine, and rock music. Writes...mostly about love

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