Unicorn Hair

I was supposed to go to my neighbour’s house, triple unlock the door, clear and stack the post and free newspapers, unset the alarm, let THAT bloody cat in, feed him, tuck him in for the night, reset the alarm (with a different number) and then, the next day,  go back and do it all again but this time in reverse to let the moggy out for daytime fun.

This was my unpaid and unappreciated task – aka a favour.  The implication is that Lady Snoot  asks and I should be grateful that she does because  she is  posh, her cat is special and I am at home doing nothing all day and all night. That is the unspoken but loud and clear subtext of our arrangement. And she’s wrong, I am always busy. Reality TV is research when you are a writer, thankyouverymuch.

When she came to tell me that I was looking after her cat again and gave me the keys to her castle I had just tied  the clump of hair at the front of my head into a ponytail band because it was annoying me and stopping me from thinking. I had also dabbed Sudocrem on the various lump, bumps and liver spots on my face. I looked like a unicorn crossed with a dalmation. It was, I admit, a strictly home alone look.    Standing on my doorstep my neighbour surveyed me and asked ” Going anywhere nice, today?” and then she gave a tinkly laugh.

The fact that I always say yes to her when I want to say no annoyed me then, and all day afterwards and all evening too, and makes it inexplicable that I went to bed and slept soundly until 4.15am. That’s when I sat bolt upright in bed and shouted “The bloody cat!” I had completely for gotten to let in  the four legged prince who was as a result out there fighting for his life  in the urban jungle that is  North West London.  Poor baby  should have been snoring in his Cath Kidson print  bed at least  eight hours earlier.

I prodded my husband and asked him to get up, get dressed and come across the road with me there and then to save posh cat from the dangers of the night. I can’t repeat most of what he said in reply. There were a lot of  high volume words that rhymed with duck and pit and he used his forefinger to warn me to remember that there was only one good reason EVER  to wake him up when he was sleeping. But then, mid rant, he snapped back into sleep without telling me what the one good reason was.   I’m still pondering on that. Fire ? Intruders? Illness? Flood? Or…..?

There is no happy ending – yet – to this  ‘tail’. It’s Saturday and there have been no confirmed sightings of  the cat prince. Maybe he had such a brilliant time on his first all nighter that he doesn’t want to come home or maybe I am responsible for caticide.

5 comments to Unicorn Hair

  • Julie Pereira

    that’s a cat-astrophe! The poor cat must be traumatised dodging foxes but not as traumatised as the owner leaving her precious possession in your custody for you to forget about it! You always seem to look in a mad state when you meet her so perhaps she thinks it’s neigthbourly community service by asking to you to feed her moggy? I hope you find the cat before a Chinese takeaway does.

  • I shall say just one thing – “reading out postcards addressed to the cat”.

  • Diddy

    I had special flied lice last night and swear I heard a meow when I open takeaway box…..

  • Debbie

    My mascara is running from crying with laughter.
    Dare I ask if His Royal Catness ever made it home? Or did is still out cavorting with the Alley Cats?

  • I know nothing because I’m scared to ask, I fall into a hedge everytime I see Lady Snoot on the street in case she questions me about THAT night….
    Anna May x