Molly and the Cat Cafe

I slipped on the plastic floor of the carrier, trying to find my footing as he swung me round and turned to leave the room. Still growling, I peered through the bars of the carrier door for one final look at my home. The rooms were all empty, devoid of furniture and packing boxes. I was surprised by how cold the house looked, how lifeless without Margery’s possessions and the warmth of her presence. The only sign that she had ever lived there were marks on the carpet, where her furniture had stood, and nails in the walls where her pictures had hung. I tried not to think about the happy times we had had in the house, the meals we had eaten together and our leisurely cuddles on the sofa.

In a matter of seconds we were outside. I heard the front door slam behind me and the key turn in the lock. The cat carrier bumped against David’s leg as he walked across the drive to his car. I was spun around once more and briefly blinded by the light from a lamp post. Then the carrier was plonked unceremoniously into the boot of the car, the door was pushed shut and all was dark and silent.

4

The engine revved into life, and I felt the car slide off Margery’s driveway. In an effort to stay calm, I began to observe my surroundings, trying to ignore the hunger pangs telling me that it was almost my dinner time. I circled round and round inside the cat carrier, trying to find a position that allowed me to see the car’s rear windscreen, but the deepening dusk outside meant that all I could make out was the strobing flash of street lamps. Eventually, realizing anything else was futile, I crouched down on the floor of the carrier, with my feet tucked neatly underneath my body, and tried to let the hum and vibration of the engine lull me to sleep.

I must have fallen into a light doze, for I was woken by an incessant bleeping noise from the front of the car that I recognized as David’s mobile phone. I heard David swear.

‘Pat, I’m driving. Hang on – I’ll put you on handsfree.’

I could make out the tinny sound of a woman’s voice on the line. I had met David’s wife Pat on a few occasions, back when she and David used to come for Sunday lunch at Margery’s with their children. She had struck me as a pleasant woman, if somewhat worn down by the demands of two boisterous children and a husband whose emotional level seemed permanently set to ‘stressed’.

‘How’s Mum doing?’ David asked.

‘She’s not too bad. We’ve unpacked and she’s having a cup of tea in the residents’ lounge. You know what she’s like, though, how she gets fixated on things. She keeps asking about the cat, wanting to know when you’ll be bringing her.’

My heart leapt with excitement. Could this whole horrendous ordeal be about to end with an ecstatic reunion at Margery’s new home?

David tutted loudly.

‘For God’s sake, I’ve been through this a million times with her. I’ve explained that she can’t have pets there. She knows that.’

‘I know, David,’ Pat answered, her tone placatory. ‘I’ve reminded her of that today as well. She nods, like she’s taking it in, but I don’t know if she’s really understood.’ There was a short silence before she added, ‘I’ve put a photo of the cat on her bedside table, next to the photo of your dad, but I’m not sure if that’s just going to make her worse.’

I felt as if my heart was going to burst with sorrow. Not for myself, and the crushing disappointment that we were not to be reunited after all, but for Margery. To think of her in strange surroundings, scared and confused – not just wanting but needing me – was almost more than I could bear.

David groaned. ‘Maybe it will – how should I know? Hopefully she’ll settle down soon and forget all about the bloody cat. I dunno, Pat. As if it wasn’t stressful enough having to rehome my mother, now I’ve got to rehome her sodding cat too!’

Inside the plastic carrier, my fur bristled.

‘I’m on my way to Rob’s now, to drop her off. I’ve told Rob I owe him a pint for taking her,’ David added, and my ears pricked up. I had never heard of Rob before, but by the sound of it, he was to be my new owner.

David finished the phone call and the rest of the journey passed in silence. I tried to keep track of how long we had been driving. I could see it was dark outside now and, judging from the ache in my stomach, it was at least an hour past my dinner time. Occasionally I let out a yowl, which was met with a curt ‘Shut up, cat!’ from the front seat, so after a while I gave up.

Eventually I felt the car slow down and pull to a halt. I instinctively burrowed as far back inside the carrier as I could, trying to make myself as small and inconspicuous as possible. The rational part of me knew it was pointless to try and hide, but my self-preservation instinct kicked in nonetheless.