A Cry for Help

By Jens Roesner

Some weeks ago, we had an encounter with another species and I had to send a quick email to Judith Carmel Arthur, who is the keeper of two cats and Mutsy, the Maremma, one of the cats is commonly known as ‘The ‘Slayer’. He was a cunning little beast, who used to be in firm command of Hawksmoor, and any quadrupeds within his range. I hoped to borrow the Slayer for a day or so, but it was not to be. The ‘Slayer’ refused the mission, claiming it was too ‘energetic for his liking’.

Here is the blow by blow account of what happened that evening:

About an hour ago, Hawksmoor had finally deigned to clear his supper bowl. This, for a change, was not the main event here at Roundpaw House tonight. There I was, sitting on my bed, watching ‘Natural World’ – Badgers in Britain –; Hawksmoor is snoring in the study, Thomas, my cat, lolling on the bed – I mean, a good traditional local setting in TW1 1PQ…

Next, I see a small brown mouse with a confident demeanour, scuttling out from underneath one of my sweaters, which has been resting in the bedroom fireplace for a couple of weeks.

The mouse has large ears.

Mouse is circumspect, not hurried at all; the other quadrupeds are soundly asleep.

Mouse inspects the bottom of the bed, sniffs the leads behind the TV, then makes off to the study – he just looked at me while I am typing this. Now he emerges from the crevice behind the fish tank, the safest place in the whole house, man nor beast could move the wretched thing and the gap to the wall is too narrow to get into, even for slim young Thomas, the cat on duty.

The mouse shall be called ‘Albert’, he looks clever.

I hope Hawksmoor does not want to adopt and protect him, when he comes out of his Tuscan coma in an hour or so. Albert scurries past the big white paws, no reaction on the great protector’s part… The hope left is Thomas. Our deal, as I understand it is this: Thomas does not eat Hawksmoors supper, Hawksmoor keeps other cats out of the garden, and I feed them both and walk one of them. How would Albert fit into this cosy arrangement?

Mouse just went into the hallway, past the banisters and past the mighty Maremma, who guards my back. Thomas, the cat (remember him?), is still lounging on the bed in the next room, showing no movement, I just hope he is still alive. The badger program on TV is over. What I need is a killer cat to turf Albert and his intended family out. The guy looks like he is shopping for a permanent home. He has this IKEA nest building look on his pointy little face, trust me. Get me a decent cat to solve the problem. Maremmas are not enough!

The Slayer did decline the job – see above. Albert escaped next day while Thomas had his breakfast.