I need to move on soon. I’m no clearer as to why I’m embroiled in this cycle of events and I really need to dig deeper, thought Ed, slightly regretful to move on but mindful he couldn’t get caught up in any relationship commitments at this point. He settled down in his basket, still tired even after a sleepy day. He decided to devise a plan in the morning and move on towards the next transience. Maybe he could be 'paused' again, and this time try and visit the mythical Viking warrior?
The morning came round in a flash and the kitchen rustlings of the duo woke Ed from his slumber, coming round just as Frank topped up his bowl of food and saucer of milk. He jumped up from his basket and went through to the living room to find Ali on the sofa staring without interest at the twenty-four hour news channel, volume muted. In the bottom right hand corner of the screen a small superimposed man danced and juggled sign language with his hands and arms, turning round to stare back up at the broadcaster whenever there was a pause, as if they were actually behind them.
Ed jumped up onto the sofa and onto Ali’s lap and sat bolt upright facing him.
“What’s gotten into you, Smunky?” uttered the boy as Ed changed positions and settled down into a curled up ball.
“You don’t know it yet, but this is our goodbye. I’d like to stay with you and honestly feel terrible about leaving, but I have to continue on my journey. I hope you understand.”
“Meeaaooww, Meeaaooww, Meeaaooww! I wish I spoke cat language, little fella. You are a cute little thing,” replied Ali, stretching out his right hand to ruffle the cat behind the back of the head and stroke him down his body.
“I’m sorry, mate, I feel really bad,” meowed Ed before settling into a low rumbling purr, revelling in the stroking for a few minutes.
Soon the silence was broken.
“Dad, I’ve got to go. I have to pick up a spare battery for my phone from Bobby’s.”
With this Ed wrapped both hands underneath Ed and scooped him down onto the floor.
“See ya later, Smunky,” he said, as the cat ambled miserably into the kitchen towards his basket. Soon father and son had gone through their whole morning ceremony and had left the house, leaving Ed alone, lonely and tearful. It was as heartbreaking as seeing Sam disappear into the night just a few days back. The last thing he wanted was a repeating list of lonely farewells. He munched away at his breakfast and slurped up his milk before zipping through the cat flap, along the garden and off into the grey damp day.
He proceeded along the tall fence, past the pond and off through the shrubs and bushes, further than he had been before. His sense of direction felt amazing and he was continually aware of where he was relative to Frank and Ali’s house. It was though he had his own internal GPS system, making it easy for him to move further and further away from his temporary home. He really didn’t want to have them finding his dead body anywhere near and so decided to walk for the day as far away as he could get. Then he would take a decision on what to do next. Time was still on his side, although he could feel some of his human awareness and memories gradually slipping away.
He padded from street to street past the council houses, post boxes and bus stops. He noticed the myriad of strange street names as he proceeded: Winklebury Way, Ludlow Close, Bury Road, Brunel Street, South Ham Way and St Peter’s Close. No rhyme or reason, just strange and disassociated names. He pondered on the American style of naming roads on a number system, north to south and east to west. It gained points in logic but lost them in emotion. It was too machine-like. He preferred the random scatterbrain approach of the British.
He wandered up through the cemetery, stopping to look at the gravestones and their inscriptions, wondering if he would ever meet any of these people on his travels. He wondered if he had a gravestone, what it was like and where he was buried. Had a lot of people attended his funeral and was there an abundance of flowers and greetings? Most importantly, was he missed? He passed from the cemetery into a fenced allotment area, ambling over towards a small plot of land being attended by a hunch-backed elderly woman, grey straight hair, bony features and plain supermarket clothes. He watched her from a distance as she dug at the soft earth, putting in small wooden posts and arranging the greenery with delicate care amidst the grey, dreary and depressing day.
He moved on silently and hopped over the small hedgerow out from the allotment. All the excitement about the spring of his back legs had drained from him as he continued to feel guilty about leaving Ali. He jumped onto a small wall and then further up onto a ramshackle wooden shed. He sat on the top of the pointed roof with his paws and head hanging over the centre divider looking back across the allotment and the busy bee of a green fingered lady.