Molly and the Cat Cafe

I was woken with a start by a chorus of human voices singing nearby. I lifted my head and listened, my ears twitching at the familiar-sounding music. Margery had loved to listen to music like this on her radio at Christmas, singing along happily while she prepared our Christmas dinner.

The throbbing in my leg snapped me out of my reverie. I winced as I stretched my leg out to examine it, but was glad to see that the swelling had gone down and the puncture marks had begun to scab over. I washed the wound, then slowly stood up, using my front legs to support my weight while I cautiously straightened my hind legs underneath me. I was wobbly, but apart from some soreness around the bite mark and a residual ache in the leg, I felt okay. I arched my back in a stretch, relieved to feel that my mind was at one with my body once more.

Crawling out of the pile of crates, I squinted in the winter sun. The town square was almost unrecognizable from the rain-soaked scene of the previous night. The shops were open and busy with customers. The yellow stone walls of the buildings on all sides glowed warmly against the blue sky, and their windows sparkled as they reflected the bright morning sunlight. The Christmas carollers who had woken me were standing in a semicircle in the middle of the square, wearing heavy coats zipped up to their chins. They all smiled as they sang, and one of them rattled a bucket full of loose change at passers-by.

Careful not to put any weight on my injured leg, I made my way gingerly around the square. The alley-cat’s parting words – This alley’s taken – were playing on my mind. Hobbling slowly along the pavement, I noticed for the first time that there were alleyways all around the square, their entrances so narrow and inconspicuous that I hadn’t seen them the night before. Spotting the telltale gap between a sweet shop and the bakery, I tiptoed over and stood at the alley’s entrance. I sniffed the stone, but could not detect any traces of feline scent. In the morning sunshine, with the occasional shopper passing through, the alley did not look terrifying. If it wasn’t already taken by another cat, perhaps this was my chance to mark out a territory for myself.

I took a few steps along the alleyway and made use of a litter bin to jump up onto the top of the wall that ran alongside the path. My hackles rose instinctively when I saw the unmistakeable shape of a cat up ahead, basking in the sunshine on the flat roof of a shed. My tail flicked from side to side as I considered what to do next. I tiptoed closer. The cat was fast asleep, a neat crescent of tortoiseshell fur, with her tail tucked snugly around her body. Her eyes were shut tight and she had tilted her face up towards the sun, with her mouth curled into a smile. I stood on the wall, watching her fur rise and fall with her breath, envying her ability to feel relaxed enough to sleep out in the open.

The sound of dogs barking in the square brought her nap to an abrupt end. She jerked her head upright, ears flicking in response to the noise. Her eyes had opened, but the inner eyelids were still visible as she made the sudden shift from sleep to consciousness. She looked around and, noticing me on the wall, jumped to her feet and began to growl.

‘Who are you? What do you want?’ she hissed.

‘I’m Molly. Sorry – I didn’t mean to scare you.’ I replied in the calmest voice I could muster, though I was beginning to shake with fear.

The cat glared at me. She looked young, but there was no mistaking her threatening demeanour.

‘I’m new to the town,’ I continued, my tone placatory. ‘I’m just looking around. Getting to know the place.’

She eyed me suspiciously and I blinked slowly, then averted my gaze, the universal feline indicator of non-aggression.

‘You’re new round here?’ she repeated.

I nodded. ‘I’ve been walking for weeks, got here last night. I’m looking for somewhere to live, but I was attacked in an alley last night.’

I saw her eyes flash – I wasn’t sure whether with anger or concern.

‘You can’t just come and go as you please, you know. There are rules.’ She frowned as she looked me up and down. I sensed her confusion, and that she was unsure whether to regard me as a threat or take pity on me.

‘So is this . . . your alley?’ I enquired, glancing at her face, in the hope that she might say more to enlighten me.

‘Yes.’ Her eyes held mine for a moment, then she went on, ‘They’re all taken. The alley-cats have them marked out. Where did you say you were attacked?’

I described the alley behind the restaurant, and the ginger tom with amber eyes. She winced.

‘Hmm. I know the one you mean. Bad move. Really bad.’ She registered my look of dismay. ‘It’s probably best if you avoid the alleys, at least until you’ve settled in a bit,’ she explained in a conciliatory tone.