As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some months ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
This is Chester. He is looking out the door at the rain.
After a long spell of heat and humidity that was practically unbearable, we now have rain and cold.
I’m standing at the back door watching the near torrential downpour, and both of us are watching the river of water flowing from the back yard down the side of the house.
Chester looks at me. Is that the look that’s asking me to let him outside.,
I’m toying with the idea.
He turns his head and looks up at me. Is that an imploring look to stay in or go out.
The hell with it, I open the door. If he wants to go out in the rain, that’s his business.
He stands up and turns his head to look at me.
OK, I get it. When you know I can’t go out, you let me out. That’s just not right.
What’s stopping you?
You know exactly what the problem is. Water. You know I hate water.
That’s every other cat. A while back you convinced you were not like the other cats. Fearless, you said, able to take on any challenge.
Open door, it’s an invitation to paradise.
He takes two tentative steps towards freedom. The rain comes down harder as if someone up there is playing a mean joke on him.
Another step, just about through the door.
The wind blows and we both catch a spray of water.
He jumps and scuttles back inside so fast, and I’m left alone at the door. I close it again.
We will be discussing invincibility sometime soon, I yell out. But, he’s gone.
I shrug and go back inside. I will savor this victory for the next few minutes.
Or for along as he’ll let me.