“You bastard, you bastard,” he shouted as he smacked away at the roof with the stick, causing bits of the unkempt structure to fly off into the garden.
“Chrissake man, were you on the losing side in a war or something? You’re causing more damage than I ever could have in the bush,” screeched Ed, as he backed off to the rear of the roof and up onto a tall thin wooden fence. It was hardly wide enough, but his fine-tuned balancing skills made walking along the slender and narrow wooden structure mere child’s play. He skipped along, leaving the spouting buffoon behind, exhaling his rage like an impotent volcano.
The fence ran along the back of a number of gardens and was going to be a very useful through-route for getting around the area. He stopped for a moment and looked back to get his bearings and a visual landmark so he could easily return to the house.
They have food and a comfortable warm place to sleep so I’d be a fool not to go back and stay a few days. Besides, maybe I could try and browse the internet on the kid’s laptop when they’re out. That’s not going to be easy with these fat paws though, thought Ed, noticing a rusting red swing in the garden where he had had the altercation with the old man. Next to it, the bush had indeed been left in disarray with wooden supports and bits of thin wire mesh left in a bundle on the lawn. The old man just stared motionless at the damage.
I don’t recall making that much of an impact on it. Oh well, onward and upward, thought Ed.
With this, he resumed his journey along the fence, down into a small alley and along into a small park and pond, marvelling at his newfound agility. It was as though every time he jumped or landed he was Zebedee or some other spring-based jumping novelty toy. Excitedly, he pounced up onto walls, sheds and fences and back down again onto the tarmac walkway, his paws splaying out whilst his legs took all the pressure of each jump with a satisfying springiness. His whole body felt so flexible, like a big slab of very soft, flexible rubber.
He ambled out into the main road, keeping on the pavement and slinking along close to the sides of the parked cars, ducking in and out from under them between the wheels. He powered himself skywards again with his strong back legs and jumped up onto the roof of a blue Honda Jazz car, walking along its roof, down onto the bonnet and then down onto the floor to continue on his way. He came to rest on the small front wall next to a finely pruned and arranged rose bush. The smell was almost overpowering for the cat, leaving him intrigued by the depth of its odour. Finally it got too much to bear and he jumped down and back along the way he’d come. The intensity of all the smells around him was altogether overwhelming. Even the car tyres gave out an incredibly strong rubber smell as he strolled along the street. Worst above all, were the piles of dog poo at every possible tree location along the way, sometimes even just dropped off in the middle of the pavement.
What must owners be thinking, letting them do that? If they could smell what I could smell they would certainly rethink the strategy of their dog’s toilet habits, thought Ed, as he slinked past yet another mess, careful to keep his pristine furry paws away from any of it. Soon he was on his way back to his new home and back along the fence past the old man’s house. He skipped down from the fence onto the brick and breeze block enclosure that formed a barbeque area at the end of his new garden and proceeded home.
Back into my Smunky shack, he thought, as he trotted along the small alley and flicked his way through the cat flap, leading with his head. Frank was in the kitchen making tea and toast for himself and his son. Ed snuck through the open kitchen door and slid into the living room. Ali was still at the computer, his right hand flicking through options with the mouse whilst the left hand held his mobile phone to his ear.
“What do you mean leave it on 24/7? Isn’t that dangerous? Dad will go bananas about the electricity bill.”
Meanwhile Ed had spotted another cat basket in the corner of the living room, smaller than the one in the kitchen but equally comfortably lined with a warm, thick furry blanket. He slinked over and skipped in, avoiding the saucer of milk alongside.
Great, looks like I’m going to be spoiled for a few days, he thought, as he lay down in the basket on his side, his legs straight out flat on the blanket. His head perched proudly upwards as he craned to see what Ali was up to.
“Well, it’s okay now. It’s all working fine, I think. Let me put you on speaker phone so I can use both hands.”
Ali propped the phone up against the screen of the laptop and pressed the small icon on the screen for the speaker.
“Can you hear me?” shouted Ali.
“Yes, I can, you don’t need to shout,” replied the thin, tinny micro voice at the other end of the line.