Guest Writer Spot

Happy Friday, everyone. I hope you’ve had a good week. It’s time for my Guest Writer. This week, it’s Murray Clarke. I’m sure you’ll enjoy his story as much as I did.

CATNAP

By

Murray Clarke

It doesn’t always pay to go for the cheapest quote, Edith reflected, as she surveyed the remainder of her worldly possessions spread out on the driveway. Her eyes narrowed as she looked around. Searching.

‘Cheeky! Cheeky! Where are you, my little darling?’ she called.

‘I’m over here, love!’ replied one of the removal men.

Edith gave him a withering look but decided against replying to such a rude person. She knew what her Bert would have said – he’d have given him a piece of his mind, for sure! She missed Bert terribly. Lonely and sad, she had found companionship and solace with a cat from the local Rescue Centre — a moggie kitten with the sweetest, most mischievous little face she had ever seen. It was love at first sight for both of them!           

‘You cheeky girl!’ she smiled, stroking the animal’s soft black fur. The cat rewarded her with a purr and rubbed its tiny nose against her leg. And so . . . Cheeky it was!

But Cheeky was now missing. Nowhere to be seen.  An exhaustive search of the house and small garden revealed nothing.

The two removal men were sweating profusely as they struggled under the weight of an oversized mahogany wardrobe.

‘Have either of you lads seen my kitty?’ asked Edith.

Lads? The burly men glanced at each other, barely able to contain their laughter.

‘I don’t see what’s so funny!’ sniffed Edith. ‘My darling black pussycat, Cheeky – I can’t seem to find her anywhere.’

‘You seen the lady’s cat, Jim?’ Bill asked his mate.

‘Nope!’ Jim replied. ‘She’ll have to move to her new place without him!’

‘HER!’

‘Whatever!’

Edith took a step closer. ‘There’s only one thing for it, young man — you need to take everything out of the van. I bet Cheeky has crept into the back when you weren’t looking. She’ll be hiding, frightened, behind the furniture, bless her.’

‘Unload the van!’ exploded Bill. ’You’ve got to be joking, love.’

‘I am NOT joking — and I am NOT your “love”,’ Edith snorted.

‘Better do as the old bat says,’ said Jim. ‘But the flippin’ cat better be there!’

Reluctantly, huffing and puffing and swearing under their breath, the men began to unload their vehicle.

Beneath the blistering midday sun, item-by-item, the contents were dumped onto the driveway. An hour later, the van was empty. However, much to everyone’s dismay, there was no sign of the missing pet.

‘I felt sure Cheeky would be hiding in there!’ said Edith, shaking her head.

Edith regarded the men, now stripped to their waists and drenched with sweat. They looked as if they could cheerfully strangle the old lady.

‘You’ll better load it all back in again,’ suggested Edith. ‘And mind you don’t break anything!’

If looks could kill!

Edith sat down on a stone wall and waited patiently. Finally, another hour later, the job was done. The men were just shutting the tailgate securely when Stephen, Edith’s son, arrived to take his mother to her new bungalow.

‘Looks as if Cheeky is enjoying the warm sunshine!’ Stephen remarked cheerfully as he walked down the side of the van.

‘What do you mean?’

Stephen nodded towards the cab. And there, peacefully curled up asleep on the driver’s seat, was the errant cat – totally oblivious to the mayhem she had caused! Edith saw the perspiring faces of the exhausted removal men.

‘Well, serves them jolly well right, that’s all I can say!’ she said to herself. ‘They shouldn’t have been so rude to me!’ She turned to her son. ‘Will you break the good news to the men, or shall I?’

Edith grinned and lifted her eyes to the sky. She felt sure Bert was up there somewhere, looking down on her – an amused smile on his face.

***

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9 Responses to Guest Writer Spot

  1. A lovely story, Esther. I will be finishing mine tomorrow. This week just ran away from me.

  2. Darlene says:

    I loved it! A great short story. xo

  3. Paul Mastaglio says:

    Purrfect story! Sorry, couldn’t resist.

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