Black Cat Goes Home
I hadn’t heard from Mr Costas during the two weeks I had been looking after Francesca, and he’d replied to none of my text updates. But last night he sent a brief message asking me to prepare Francesca for 8am, and he arrived on the dot.
It was supposed to be a very brief affair, the pick up, as Mr Costa was double parked outside, but Francesca had other ideas, and although Mr Costa was very pleased to see Francesca she didn’t look particularly pleased to see him. ‘It’s often like this,’ I explained sympathetically as the large, elderly man swooped, dived and grabbed at Francesca to no avail,’Cat’s don’t like surprises’ I continue ‘unless they’re made of food.’ It’s true that although all my feline lodgers seem to have a wonderful time here, they are never too impressed when their owners saunter in after a few weeks in the sun and want pick up where they left off. ’ Yes’ Mr Costas agreed, finally giving up the chase and sitting down with a bump. He patted his moist brow with a handkerchief and said sadly ‘She has been like this ever since I started going away’
I tempted Francesca with her favourite brush and had soon scooped her up in my arms. For the first time arriving Francesca didn’t object, or hiss silently when I picked her up, and she allowed me a little squeeze before I put her in her basket. Mr Costas was impressed and as he shuffled out the door, the huge man with the tiny cage swinging back and forth precariously, he grabbed my face gently with his hand and kissed my cheek. ‘She likes you’ he said with a flourish ’ I will telephone and take you out to dinner, yes?’