Sherlock Romes in – Reiver to the Rescue!
It was another freezing Sunday morning in the village. Sherlock Romes, the great feline detective (retired), perched on the heat pad gingerly. He had been laying on it comfortably until his huge ‘little’ brother, Reiver, decided to get onto it with him. Now Romes found himself bumped to the very edge of the mat, with the considerable girth of Reiver blocking his tiny body from most of the heat. 😹😸
‘This is a comfy cuddle’! Reiver seemed to smile up at him, giving the detective a friendly lick on the nose. Romy controlled the sarcastic remark which entered his head. There was no point, he reminded himself, in entering into a battle of wits with an unarmed animal. More pertinent to the matter at hand, their two carers had recently fed them both – and then left to perform their weekly duties for ‘Cook-Inn’. The only reason this was problematic, reflected Sherlock, was that he’d overheard a phone call earlier; Feston, the owner of the only other car in use for the charity today, had broken down! This meant that the poor little polo would have to do all the runs on its own, and that meant the two cats would wait quite a while for their next meal! George, their faithful helper and occasional cat-sitter, had the gall to be away with the pipe band this weekend. Things looked bleak for the detective. 🎷🎺🎸🎻🎤🎧🎼🎹🎬
Sherlock edged away from his brother’s overweening bulk, lamenting the loss of even more ground on the heat pad but hoping to regain the feeling in his squashed back paws. He set his jaw in a determined fashion; it was up to him to look after the both of them. 😼
Meanwhile, in a branch of Morrison’s not far from you, the two remaining ‘Cook-Inn’ field operatives were collecting their weekly donation. As the crates were sorted, people coming out of the store chatted to them, finding out more about the aims of the charity. Duncan counted thirty bags needing delivered for this week, with just the one being fruit only. Half an hour later saw them pulling up outside their new cooking venue; Granton SDA Church! Clive the Chef was there to let them in, and pretty soon all the crates were unloaded. Now to ‘bag up’ the produce while Clive finished cooking the food. Somehow, it was already nearly 1pm!
Back at base, Reive was prowling agitatedly round the living room, sniffing the now mostly empty food bowls and making the great detective feel like he himself might become his brother’s next meal. Deciding it was time to take matters into his own paws, Romy nudged open the kitchen door. Knowing this was where most of the catfood was kept, up high to fool his brother’s prying instincts, Romy had to think of a way to bring the food down to them both. Because of his great age, Romes could no longer climb as he used to – and because of a long-ago incident involving a burger someone had left on the road and a moving vehicle, Reiver also lacked the capacity to conquer the towering summit of the top of the tumble-dryer. 🍩🍣🍥🍔🍔🍔
But hold on – Romy mooched his thin frame around the back of the machines, and discovered to his delight that the dryer had been left on at the wall. Tremendous! Now, all he had to do was work out a way to turn it on. Standing on the open door of the washing machine underneath, he realised that the dryer’s door was open. It needed to be closed before the machine would work.
With no time to lose (because his brother was still eating) Romes raced to the nearly-empty food bowls. grabbing a bit of the fishy stuff in his mouth, he endeavoured to reach the kitchen door again without encountering his brother en route. Worse luck, the mere sound of the great feline detective nearing the remaining food had brought the fat cat running. Reive blocked his path not like a cat, but more like an earth mover. Romy tried to talk sense into him but the food was still in his mouth. In frustration he feinted left, pretending to throw the morsel of grub onto the sofa. With joy he felt the wind of Reiver’s passage knock him into the wall, as his brother thundered almost directly over him in order to check out where the food had apparently gone. The way now clear, Romy silently re-entered the kitchen. 🍤🍗🍞🍢🍥🍔
Back in Granton, the local run had been delivered. Hoovering up and kitchen cleaning was going on. 2pm had come and gone, and Janine was feeling guilty about the length of time it would take to get home to the cats. The loss of that second car was really unfortunate. The unexpected roadworks in between Granton church and Musselburgh likewise. Hurriedly she scooped up the last of the mess as Clive the Chef brought in the volunteers’ tasty lunches. 🍲🍲🍲
Stomach rumbling now, the great feline detective carefully positioned the morsel of fish just under the corner of the washing machine. He stepped back, to check that the angle was just right. Satisfied, he let out a calculating ‘mew’! 🙀
As anticipated, the thundering paw-steps in the living room changed course and came once again in his direction. Getting out of the way, Romy watched as his brother crashed through the (mostly open) door, searching for any edible opportunity. ‘Right there!’ Romes howled pointedly, but Reiver wasn’t paying him any attention. Oh boy, thought Sherlock; how does this cat even manage to walk in a straight line? At some considerable personal risk he crouched down over the morsel, pretending to guard it from the humongous animal. Catching on that the food must be underneath his brother’s paw, Reiver shot towards it. Just in time, Romy edged back before he became a two-dimensional ‘splat’ on the side of the washing machine. Reiver, in his effort to get at the food, whumped gracelessly into the washer, making a loud noise and – as the detective had calculated – resulting in the dryer’s door above crashing shut. A loud rumble started up as the machine flared into life. Pretty soon…crash! a box of wet food fell to the floor, and Reiver was on it. Not waiting to see what else might fall on his head, the fat cat just dived in. 😼😼😼🍲🍲🍲
Sherlock was smart enough to wait until the ten minutes of dryer-time indicated on the dial had elapsed. This meant that everything fell onto Reiver’s head, but that he himself remained unscathed. Forcing down a chuckle every time something either missed his brother by inches, or (better still) landed flat on the large black-and-white hide, Romy nudged forward to grab a sachet for himself. Having helpfully opened them all before choosing which food he’d like, Reiver was now too busy chomping said food to harass the detective. Romy settled in and ate to his heart’s content. 🍲🍲🍲
4.30pm. and the front door opened. Both cats by now were sleeping it off on the heat pad. Janine came in waving a sachet of food. Reiver, on principle, slathered lazily off the couch -but Romes simply stayed and hogged the heat pad, a smile of feline contentment on his cute wee face. Figuring he was a very old man and could be safely spoiled, Janine brought a bowl of food to him. Romy lapped at it apathetically. 🍲🍲🍲
‘Why aren’t you guys hungry’? She mused. ‘We’ve been gone for nearly six hours! Oh well, I suppose I’ll go get tea ready’. She got up and headed for the kitchen.
Romes shot off the heat pad and into the bedroom to get some distance from the predicted noise of Janine’s shriek…😭😭😵
Much love to all our readers! God bless.
Janine and two well-fed cats. xx