Or, How Another Candidate was Considered for the Clan

It was another cold, frosty night in Fallowfield.

White Socks, the local tomcat was sitting on the raised decking in the Ginger Nuts’ garden watching for the slightest movement shown by the moonlight. He was attuned to the ways of the rodents and recognised if a leaf or twig moved.

There was no wind and no clouds to discourage a frost from forming.

He turned sharply at a tiny sound just behind him.

Mrs Ribby strolled silently up to him. “Macow, youngster,” she grinned, “there’s a couple of old snacks on our plates if you care to sneak in through our cat flap.”

“Mirrawacau!” replied White Socks, “I never hear you until you’re within pouncing distance!”

“Merrow, many years of living rough in the back streets, raising kittens, honed my wraith-like movements,” she replied, “it’s a survival feature.”

“It’s very kind of you and your daughter to arrange a midnight feast for me,” said White Socks, “my people always push me out at night, and the dinners they provide are somewhat scanty.”

“Meupers, our people provide wholesome meals, restorative snacks and treats throughout the day and don’t mind too much when you rattle the cat flap and come padding in to restore the inner tom cat.”

“You’re too kind, Mrs Ribby, always thinking of a young fellow like me, trying to make his way in the world.”

“There’s just one thing I should mention,” continued Ribby, “our VOMis and VOMas get quite upset with all your scent marking, squirting and claiming of territory. Every time you let out your strident howl, it wakes them up and they hurry downstairs to see if Ruby and I need any help. They have actually acquired an Ultra-Violet torch to shine upon the residual squirts, to highlight where the cleansing and scouring cloths should be deployed.”

White Socks looked sheepish and hung his head in disgrace. “It’s one of those things I think I should do. I can’t help it. Perhaps I need counselling.”

“What you need is to book a special visit to your vet and then stay in at night,” Ribby looked disdainfully across to him. “My operation was more serious than yours will be, and once recovered, I really feel that I’ve fallen on my paws by living with such a caring family”

“Things aren’t so good at my house,” White Socks admitted, “meals are often late and there’s never enough. It’s cold and I get pushed off beds and chairs.”

“Mewp, as far as I know, our people have taken in persistent stray tom cats in the past. The best is The Bullpuss. VOMis and VOMas are getting rather old now, but if Ruby and I put our noses together, we may be able to arrange something. But, there will be a price to pay as previously mentioned!”

Suddenly, White Socks felt a quick squeeze to his ribs. The Bullpuss had overheard the recent conversation and sneaked up behind him.

“Brrrrrp, you didn’t hear me!” remarked Bullpuss, “and I am larger than Ribby. You heard her but you’ll never hear a Feline Old Master like me!”

A cat discussion ensued and Ribby and Bullpuss explained their earlier experiences prior to adoption as a Ginger Nut. White Socks listened to all the advice and tentatively broached a delicate subject.

“Meup, I don’t suppose there might be an opportunity for me to be admitted to join your team?” and he glanced plaintively between Bullpuss and Mrs Ribby.

“Brrrrp, it is a matter for careful consideration, with lots of feline feelings to be taken on board,” said Bullpuss, “if you have time, sat here in the moonlight, Mrs Ribby and I shall explain a long list of points to you.”

Mrs Ribby miaowed, “our elderly people have to cope with all eight of us, ranging drastically in ages from my dearest daughter Ruby, who is nearly 5, up to our matriarch, the Old Furry Mopprag, whose great age is a mystery to all of us.”

“Mewpers, I heard on the pussycat grapevine,” remarked White Socks, “that if a lady has more than four cats, she can be referred to as a MadCatWoman, or over the great Atlantic pond as a CrazyCatLady!”

“Brrrp, I wonder what that makes our VOMas,” grinned Bullpuss, “possibly a MadCatFellow!”

Just then, an elderly cat whisper from near the decking, reached their ever alert ears. “Miaowka-piaowka, not another mouth to feed! Nevertheless, you will know me as the Old Furry Mopprag, but my dearest great-great-great-grand-daughter, the Young Furry Mopprag, will I’m sure, be in agreement with the plan, so I shall vote in favour!

A younger furry face popped up by the decking, “Mewp, that’s me!” squeaked Ruby.

Mungojerrie had accompanied Ruby down the garden and he hopped up now to sit beside White Socks on the decking.

“Miaowell,” he said, “we are just about the same giant cat size but my tail is longer and a touch more magnificent than yours!”

White Socks appraised the handsome long haired ginger cat with not even one paw in white, who was sat beside him.

“Miaowowsers, how do you keep that long fur free from matts, lugs and garden debris?” asked White Socks.

“Our people do quite a good regular brushing job, then I am allowed to see the cat groomer every so often. She has a gentle touch apart from in the sensitive areas, if you know what I mean,” and Mungojerrie smiled.

Mrs Ribby continued the ‘interview’. “Our people have named you White Socks, but do you know what you are called ‘at home’, and even more importantly, what is your original secret cat name?”

White Socks looked appealingly at his new companions, “my people are rather distant and I don’t actually have a name I can remember, other than ‘bother that cat’ or something ruder!”

“Miaowha!” snorted The Bullpuss, “that’s something I can relate to. But, as a kitten, were you visited by an apparition of T.S Eliot’s cat who informed you of your secret full cat name?”

White Socks leaned over to Bullpuss and whispered in his ear.

On hearing White Sock’s secret name, Bullpuss’s eyebrows would have shot up, if cats had eyebrows, “most unusual, and completely unique!” he remarked.

Mungojerrie had been listening in, by Bullpuss’ shoulder, “macau, if we are voting for a new name, my choice would be Rumpelteazer!”

Mrs Ribby continued with the interview points on the plan. “As mentioned, our people are very old, and we have a Very Young Mistress who has joined our Very Young Master only recently. They adore us felines, but you would have to accept an amount of gentle teasing, being hauled around and being put to bed in a doll’s cot.”

Moppet, or the Old Furry Mopprag, mentioned the next point, ”mew, mew, we have a well-established ‘pecking order’ or what I refer to as a ‘miaowka-piaowka order’, where I am at the top and you would have to accept being at the bottom. This affects feeding and seating arrangements, including the ‘moving around the cushions’ rota.”

Tabitha Twitchit stepped forward, “macow, I believe we have explained all the rules of entry and admission. It’s a lot to take on board and you may wish to step back to consider everything – what we call a ‘cooling of the fur period’. Then when you are ready, you can add your paw-print to the plan.”

White Socks looked rather perplexed and his eyes glinted in the moonlight.

After just a short time, he turned to the collected Ginger Nuts and gave a resounding ‘miaocowl’ of acceptance into the night.

Mungojerrie raised a paw, “there’s another small point of advice; our people are quite interested in robotic devices – something to do with VOMas’ excuse for a computer career – and we have to cope with vaguely intelligent wheeled companions, like Vacuum Cleaner Robots and more recently ALEXA and ASTRO. But we can easily teach you the tricks of how to outwit them – it’s generally great fun!”

Bullpuss helped White Socks put his pawprint of agreement to the plan.

The other Ginger Nuts added their paw prints to the plan and everyone sat back whilst congratulating White Socks on a successful completion of his application.

Ruby and Tabitha spent some time adorning their paw prints with artistic embellishments.

“Brrrrrp, our next step,” continued Bullpuss, “is to somehow draw your situation to our people’s attention and thus find out if they would be prepared to adopt you. This may prove difficult, but we shall all be industrious over the next few days and support your case in every way we can.”

Several plans were initiated. Every time White Socks paid the Ginger Nuts a visit, a rota of house cats popped out into the garden to sit and have a convivial chat.

During the night, dishes of leftover cat snacks were carefully pushed to somewhere that White Socks would be sure to find them.

Eventually, the Ginger Nuts found that VOMis and VOMas had been paying attention and they overheard some disconcerting discussions.

“That White Socks pays us too many visits,” complained VOMas, “I tried the supersoaker several times but he knows where to hide!”

“I know,” replied VOMis, “but he is a lovely cat. He gets on very well with our crew and I think they pop out to see him. Auntie Sue Latchkey is positive he has his own home but perhaps his people fail to interact with him as they should do!”

“Surely you’re not thinking of adding another to the tribe?” responded VOMas.

“I’d love to,” said VOMis, “but there are many factors, including common sense, that sadly prevent us from doing so.”

“Our decrepitude and great age!” grumbled VOMas.

“Speak for yourself!” said VOMis, “but you are actually right.”

“The feeding costs and extra Vet bills.”

“Exactly!” said VOMis, “our pensions are quite good but there are limits.”

“We need to concentrate more on our delightful grandchildren. It’s such a pity we cannot cart cats with us when we get to visit down ‘Yer Smoke!’”

“Yes indeed,” said VOMis.

“If he’s not a stray, there would be the huge Vet fee for his little operation,” VOMas made his final point.

Various Ginger Nuts had overheard this conversation and when they compared notes they knew that there was a difficult situation. Their biggest predicament was how to break the sad news to White Socks. A spokescat was appointed; this was the wise, elderly Simpkin. He handled, or pawdled, the explanation as best he could, but White Socks wandered off, disheartened. He was not seen for several weeks.

The Ginger Nuts decided best behaviour would be in order, just in case their people had a change of heart. This meant eating all meals promptly, avoiding bringing in unwanted rodents or birds and no messing with vases of flowers.

Then one day, Bullpuss and Mrs Ribby spotted White Socks strolling happily up their garden. They exchanged enthusiastic greetings; “Brrrrp, we have been worried about you!” exclaimed Bullpuss.

“Mewp, where have you been?” asked Mrs Ribby.

White Socks sat down with his friends to explain, “Macowl, you won’t believe this, but things have changed significantly for the better at home. My Old Mistress is by herself now, since that fellow has packed his bags and left.”

Ribby was amazed.

White Socks continued: “and the first thing she did, was to book me in at the Vets. When I returned I found that walking and sitting was somewhat uncomfortable!”

Bullpuss glanced under White Socks’ tail which was waving majestically in the air, “Brrrrrp, I know exactly what you mean!” he exclaimed.

 

THE END

Port St Beer House - Railway Porter

Monday 12th Feb 2024

 

NOTES

VOMis – Very Old Mistress

VOMas – Very Old Master

Originally, we didn’t need the ‘Very’ prefix!