“Meeoup, brrrrrp, looks interesting,” thought Bullpuss, “I shall collect Tigtoes and we’ll go and see what’s in the box.”

Tigtoes was always pleased with an adventure and the cats exited via their cat flap at the back of the house and went quickly round to the front gardens.

A couple of hedges and garden gates later and they could peep through towards the front door of where the new students were settling in. There was trouble afoot.

The young lady student (Media Studies, Third Year, with a subsidiary in Knitting Patterns) was remonstrating with the delivery cyclist. The pizzas had suffered badly in his tumble and he was trying to convince the girl that they would still be hot and that the dismembered slices would be fine if she liked doing jigsaws!

The girl was not impressed and taking the crushed boxes, flung them forcibly on to the pavement.

She was obviously destined for a successful career in a certain sector of the media, since her language caused the fellow to leap back in amazement, grab his large padded box and cycle quickly off down the Grove.

Tigtoes glanced at Bullpuss and stifled a cat snigger.

“Mirrawacau, Bullpuss, you used to know language like that, didn’t you?”

“Brrrp, I’m afraid so, Tigtoes,” Bullpuss looked a little sheepish, “of course, it was a result of having to live rough in the gardens, when my student Old Mistress abandoned me, all those years ago!”

“Meeeoup, what a shame,” drawled Tigtoes, “I’ve left my violin in my cat basket!”