Woof goes home tomorrow. I heard mom making arrangements for her sister to collect him after lunch. As far as I was concerned it was bad news. I’d got so used to him being there all the time and didn’t want to think about him leaving. It was up to me now to make the remaining hours memorable, for both of us.
I tried to think up some special things to do on the last day. Maybe a walk to the local park would make a nice change; it’s only a few minutes away from the house. Then it dawned on me that we’d never been out at night. Well I had, but not Woof. I was sure he’d like the experience.
Mom and dad were watching the television when we stole out through the cat flap. The pair of us raced out into the garden as if we’d been liberated from a cattery. Woof was already showing a spirit for adventure. He didn’t topple over once. For a change, instead of following the path alongside the lawn I steered him towards the road, squeezing through the five barred gate onto the footpath. I warned him to stick close to me in case one of those big cars came hurtling by. I’ve seen dead cats in the road before and it’s not a pretty sight. We’re supposed to have nine lives but I have yet to meet a cat who’s on his second or third or even more.
By the time we reached the corner of the road, having stopped a couple of times while Woof explored some front gardens, it had started to drizzle. Well, you know I don’t like getting wet so I hustled my little friend into a red-tiled porch. There were no lights on in the house so I assumed we would be safe.
Safe? Not on your life. From our vantage point we saw Foxy, already streaked by the rain, ambling down the road on the opposite side. Before I could say don’t go out in the rain Woof shot out of the porch and straight into the road. My heart was in my mouth as I ran after him; I just knew the big blue truck wasn’t going to slow down. Imagine my relief when it passed and I saw that Woof had made it up the kerb. I had visions of being belted from hell to breakfast if mom and dad found out what I’d done. Not to mention mom’s sister, who was noted for her temper. But what happened was the lesser of two evils, just imagine the state Woof would have been in if Foxy had tried to eat him.
Well I gave that little varmint what for; I told him that if he valued his life and mine he’d got to do as he was told. I was beginning to feel my age after this experience. Older and wiser? What rubbish! Older and brainless, more like.
Thankfully, Foxy had disappeared and the rest of the jaunt was somewhat subdued.
Since it had stopped raining we continued our mission for adventure. The grass verge smelled good after its watering and was lovely to walk on. Wet grass is great for cooling paws, makes them feel fresh. We did a lot of sniffing and prodding on the sidewalk before reaching the tennis courts on the corner and it was while I was trying to find a way in that Woof stopped me. His meow was only faint but I knew he was trying to tell me something.
I jumped down from the stump from which I’d hoped to leap over the netting surrounding the courts. Woof did a strange thing. He lay down. At first I thought he was hurt but he seemed okay, he wasn’t fretful at all, he simply lay on a bed of moss, looked at me ... and yawned. That’s when I realised the poor little mite was tired. I’d worn him out with my grand idea of exploring the night away.
Laying beside him, I put a paw on his neck. He turned to give it a lick, his eyes blinking with tiredness. My heart lifted. I knew then that I would look after him every chance I had, starting now. You might think it was motherly instinct, but me not being a mother I can’t really say. Anyway, I let him sleep for a short while then, when I noticed his eyelid flicker, I urged him to try and walk home. Fortunately we hadn’t actually come too far from the house. We did it in sections, walk and rest, walk and rest, until we arrived at the front gate.
I pushed him through the cat flap first and, after a quick shake of fur, jumped through myself. We could hear the television so presumed mom and dad were still watching. That pleased me. It meant they wouldn’t know that Woof had been out of the house. So I nudged him, indicating that he should go to bed and have a nice long sleep.
I was just about to go to my own bed when I had the idea that sharing with Woof would be pleasant, especially as it was his last night. So I crept in beside him. He opened one sleepy eye, looked at me, purred a couple of times, then twisted round to get comfortable. Somewhat drowsily I snuggled against him, feeling his warmth, and knew that before long I would fall into a nice dreamy sleep.
Even though my idea of adventure had almost gone wrong, I was satisfied that I’d achieved my aim in making Woofs visit one to remember. I mean, how could he forget nearly being run over? I hope it was a lesson he’d remember for evermore. I certainly wouldn’t forget.
Well goodnight all. Pleasant dreams.