Molly and the Cat Cafe

‘What the—?’ Rob muttered in disbelief. Then he let out a roar of laughter, which set Chas and Dave barking again. ‘That cat’s a frickin’ ninja!’ he hooted, pulling his phone out of his pocket and pointing it at us, to film the scene of carnage.

Perhaps it was the humiliation of being laughed at that did it: Stan gave one final, decisive twist of his head, which was powerful enough to shake me free, although not without ripping a strip of flesh from his muzzle. He yelped like a puppy and ran whimpering out of the room, while I sprang up onto the kitchen table and from there leapt to safety on top of the fridge.

Rob put his phone back in his pocket and returned to the front room, chortling to himself. Chas and Dave ran after him, still wired with excitement. My heart was racing, so I started to wash, trying to calm myself down. Part of me felt elated at having triumphed over the dogs so spectacularly. But another part of me felt ashamed at what I had become: a vicious animal, no better than the brute of a dog I had attacked. I tried hard to lick the scent of Stan off my paws. What would Margery have thought, if she had seen me behave in such a way? The Molly she knew would never bare her claws to anyone, let alone pick a fight with a dog like Stan. I had proved a point to the dogs, but at what cost to my dignity?

I closed my eyes and thought about Margery, trying to remember the kind of cat I had been when I lived with her. Pampered – undoubtedly; spoilt – probably; but I had been also been gentle, affectionate and caring. Since I had lost Margery, I seemed to have lost that part of myself as well, and I didn’t like what I was turning into. I cleaned myself thoroughly from nose to tail, trying to wash away the cat that I had become. When I had finished washing I felt calm, and I curled up on the top of the fridge. As my mind began to drift I imagined Margery’s voice saying, ‘It will all be better after a good night’s sleep.’ I started to purr and allowed myself to sink into the silent blackness, knowing that when I woke up I would have a decision to make.

I opened my eyes, feeling instantly alert. The kitchen was silent apart from the ticking of the wall clock and the first notes of the birds’ dawn chorus outside. The room was bathed in grey light, and through the window I could see the first flecks of pink and gold in the sky. I saw the dogs’ food bowls on the floor and winced, as the events of the previous evening flooded back into my mind. I jumped down onto the floor and stretched, noticing the lone dog biscuit that had been the cause of so much drama. In the fracas it had got kicked across the room, landing next to the bin. In the absence of anything else for breakfast, I ate it, resolute that this would be my last meal in Rob’s house.

When I had finished I slipped quietly through the cat flap and stood on the patio, my tail twitching as I considered my options. Although there was very little I would miss about this house, I was not naive – I knew there was no certainty I would find anything better elsewhere. Still, I promised myself that I would not settle for second best. The next place I called home would be somewhere I could be the kind of cat I wanted to be: a cat who would make Margery proud.

7

I made my way down the side of the house, slipped under the garden gate onto the pavement and started walking. The streets were empty and the houses were dark, their residents still sleeping. It had been almost twenty-four hours since my last meal, so breakfast was a pressing concern. Fortunately dawn was the perfect hour for hunting, and it didn’t take me long to find a shrew scurrying underneath a hedge.

As the sun rose, the neighbourhood began to come to life. It was a crisp autumn morning. The sun was bright but not yet warm, and a cool breeze whipped the fallen leaves into flurries along the pavement. I watched as people rushed from their houses, slamming their front doors behind them, before jumping into their cars. I knew that it was not too late to change my mind: I could turn around, go back to Rob’s house and carry on as before, as if nothing had happened. But my resolve was firm, and I was certain that I would not be dissuaded from my plan, even if I wasn’t sure yet what that plan was.

I padded along the pavement, crossing roads and turning corners at random, with no conscious purpose other than to keep moving. Eventually, I arrived at a small children’s playground at the outskirts of Rob’s housing estate. Although I could not have been walking for much more than an hour, I was beginning to feel weary, and the expanse of soft grass in the empty playground looked inviting. I squeezed under the iron gate and made my way towards the sunniest corner of the playground, beyond a row of swings. As I got closer, I realized there was already a cat there, washing.

‘Hello,’ I called. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’