Cat Crime
It was just as well that Helen's neighbour, Anna, was also a cat person, otherwise Helen's six cats would have been a sore trial. But Anna herself had two - a mother and daughter, both tabbies, and every bit as indulged as Anna's six. However it had to be admitted that of Helen's cats, Kitty, the smallest one and sister of Ernest, the boss of the street, was not happy. Ernest bullied her and the other four, and in their various ways made it clear that Kitty was not to be tolerated, whether it was at food time or securing the warmest and cosiest sleeping spots.
Helen did her utmost to solve the problem, employing every strategy she knew, but Kitty continually voted with her paws and disappeared for days at a time. Helen fretted and shared her worries with Anna who promised to keep a good look out and one chilly morning, on her way to catch the 53 bus, she spied Kitty curled up on a cushion in the window of Florence Lapper's house about fifteen doors down.
Together, the two women decided that action must be taken. Helen marched down the road and demanded that Florence return Kitty to her rightful home.
Sadly, some harsh and sharp words were exchanged, with Florence accusing Helen of neglect and abuse, and Helen declaring that Florence was a kidnapper and unscrupulous. Helen retrieved Kitty and set about securing her house to ensure that Kitty would not escape again.
All seemed successful. Kitty had her own quarters, was fed separately, slept in Helen's bedroom and seemed settled. Until one spring morning when the lengthening days and bright sunlight prompted Helen to tackle her spring cleaning. Seizing her chance Kitty leapt through the open window and was gone.
It didn't take a genius to guess where Kitty had gone. Another trip down the road and another confrontation ensued. Words were ever nastier. Florence categorically denied that she had possession of Kitty and after an unpleasant twenty minutes Helen sadly returned home. She and Anna conferred but could think of no way of proving that Florence was harbouring a runaway.
The two women resigned themselves to the loss of their beloved little cat.
And then one day, a few weeks later there came a knock at Anna's door. She hurried to answer the urgent ring and found a tall man dressed in uniform and bearing a clipboard. He enquired if she had some cats. Anna agreed that she did and demanded to know who he was and what was his business.
'I'm an RSPCA officer' he told her 'and we've had a report that your cats are being neglected'.
Anna was incandescent with fury.
'What!' She snapped 'just come through here and see my two cats. Eric and Tobias are snuggled up in front of the fire at this very moment' and she marched the officer to her front room where he found the two pampered pussies stretched out before a blazing fire.
'I'm sorry to have troubled you Madam' he said 'but I'm sure you'll understand that we have to follow up every report'.
And then light dawned.
'I know who made that report' she retorted 'it was Florence at number 67 wasn't it'?
'I couldn't possibly say' he said, looking rather shaken. Anna's anger was formidable when she got going.
'Right,' she told him 'you and I are going right round to Helen's next door and you can see for yourself that her cats and mine couldn't be better looked after. That miserable Florence has mixed our door numbers up, well, she's picked the wrong one here'.
The officer meekly followed Anna next door and the two women showed him the luxurious conditions in which Helen's cats resided.
'Madam, I can see there's no problem at all, I'll be on my way'. And he bade a hasty farewell and departed down the path.
The two women plotted revenge but without definitive proof there was little they could do. Mind you, they ensured the whole street knew of Florence's perfidy and although some took sides most felt that least said, soonest mended, was the wisest course of action.
A few reports came Helen's way of Florence being observed in Tesco's buying cat food, and once she was spotted at the vets with a cat who was the dead spit of Kitty, but it wasn't until Helen's son was up a ladder clearing the gutters that certainty was reached. He could clearly see Kitty sunning herself on Florence's shed roof, and, it had to be admitted, looking sleek and smug, lazily swiping her paw at passing butterflies.
Sadly, the two cat ladies came to the conclusion that nothing could be done and with heavy hearts accepted that Kitty puss had chosen her new residence.
But to this day Florence is known on the street as 'Florence Lapper, catnapper'. She doesn't care. She's happy, she's got her cat. One that chose her, specially.
It was just as well that Helen's neighbour, Anna, was also a cat person, otherwise Helen's six cats would have been a sore trial. But Anna herself had two - a mother and daughter, both tabbies, and every bit as indulged as Anna's six. However it had to be admitted that of Helen's cats, Kitty, the smallest one and sister of Ernest, the boss of the street, was not happy. Ernest bullied her and the other four, and in their various ways made it clear that Kitty was not to be tolerated, whether it was at food time or securing the warmest and cosiest sleeping spots.
Helen did her utmost to solve the problem, employing every strategy she knew, but Kitty continually voted with her paws and disappeared for days at a time. Helen fretted and shared her worries with Anna who promised to keep a good look out and one chilly morning, on her way to catch the 53 bus, she spied Kitty curled up on a cushion in the window of Florence Lapper's house about fifteen doors down.
Together, the two women decided that action must be taken. Helen marched down the road and demanded that Florence return Kitty to her rightful home.
Sadly, some harsh and sharp words were exchanged, with Florence accusing Helen of neglect and abuse, and Helen declaring that Florence was a kidnapper and unscrupulous. Helen retrieved Kitty and set about securing her house to ensure that Kitty would not escape again.
All seemed successful. Kitty had her own quarters, was fed separately, slept in Helen's bedroom and seemed settled. Until one spring morning when the lengthening days and bright sunlight prompted Helen to tackle her spring cleaning. Seizing her chance Kitty leapt through the open window and was gone.
It didn't take a genius to guess where Kitty had gone. Another trip down the road and another confrontation ensued. Words were ever nastier. Florence categorically denied that she had possession of Kitty and after an unpleasant twenty minutes Helen sadly returned home. She and Anna conferred but could think of no way of proving that Florence was harbouring a runaway.
The two women resigned themselves to the loss of their beloved little cat.
And then one day, a few weeks later there came a knock at Anna's door. She hurried to answer the urgent ring and found a tall man dressed in uniform and bearing a clipboard. He enquired if she had some cats. Anna agreed that she did and demanded to know who he was and what was his business.
'I'm an RSPCA officer' he told her 'and we've had a report that your cats are being neglected'.
Anna was incandescent with fury.
'What!' She snapped 'just come through here and see my two cats. Eric and Tobias are snuggled up in front of the fire at this very moment' and she marched the officer to her front room where he found the two pampered pussies stretched out before a blazing fire.
'I'm sorry to have troubled you Madam' he said 'but I'm sure you'll understand that we have to follow up every report'.
And then light dawned.
'I know who made that report' she retorted 'it was Florence at number 67 wasn't it'?
'I couldn't possibly say' he said, looking rather shaken. Anna's anger was formidable when she got going.
'Right,' she told him 'you and I are going right round to Helen's next door and you can see for yourself that her cats and mine couldn't be better looked after. That miserable Florence has mixed our door numbers up, well, she's picked the wrong one here'.
The officer meekly followed Anna next door and the two women showed him the luxurious conditions in which Helen's cats resided.
'Madam, I can see there's no problem at all, I'll be on my way'. And he bade a hasty farewell and departed down the path.
The two women plotted revenge but without definitive proof there was little they could do. Mind you, they ensured the whole street knew of Florence's perfidy and although some took sides most felt that least said, soonest mended, was the wisest course of action.
A few reports came Helen's way of Florence being observed in Tesco's buying cat food, and once she was spotted at the vets with a cat who was the dead spit of Kitty, but it wasn't until Helen's son was up a ladder clearing the gutters that certainty was reached. He could clearly see Kitty sunning herself on Florence's shed roof, and, it had to be admitted, looking sleek and smug, lazily swiping her paw at passing butterflies.
Sadly, the two cat ladies came to the conclusion that nothing could be done and with heavy hearts accepted that Kitty puss had chosen her new residence.
But to this day Florence is known on the street as 'Florence Lapper, catnapper'. She doesn't care. She's happy, she's got her cat. One that chose her, specially.
the MICE !!! He left birds alone. He was a hunter and a head on fighter. He had only half an ear after 5 years with us after a vicious fight with a ginger tom. But he could not be stopped.
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