WARNING! TURN BACK! Twee cat story ahead...
Harold had been looking after Hetty since he was a kitten, in fact as long as he could remember. They rubbed along pretty well together with an arrangement that suited them both; comfort and companionship for each other during their declining years.
Harold knew Hetty’s every habit and routine, from her happy humming in the morning as the kettle boiled to her afternoon snooze around four when he’d curl up on her lap to keep her warm and safe from all comers.
But this morning no tune, not a sound, not a movement. He’d tried his most plaintive meow, his loudest purr, but nothing. In desperation he’d even retrieved his latest tribute, a tiny vole, from the kitchen mat and laid it on her pillow, an activity absolutely forbidden, but still she lay motionless.
Now from his vantage point nestled amongst the toilet roll and the other disparate items which seemed always to reside in Hetty’s bag, a hungry Harold pondered his next move.
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