The cat quite by chance stumbled upon the telephone one chilly afternoon, many years ago, when the world seemed slower and quieter. The object reeked of human scent and radiated a peculiar, inviting warmth. Making himself comfortable, the cat wrapped his paws around it, settled atopand, quite remarkably, the mobile lit up at the barest brush of his paw.
Margaret scarcely had the chance to enjoy her new mobile. Trouble began from the very first moments: the blasted thing would heat up from the tiniest task. Worse yet, she managed to lose it almost straight away.
It was such a shame The phone had been brilliant: large display, powerful batteryexactly the kind she needed, and yet, it was that very battery that failed her. Now, returning it was quite out of the question; the phone had simply vanished.
Margaret called herself a daft old bat, picked up her backupan ancient Nokia with creaky buttonsand dialed her own number. The line rang and rang, but no one picked up.
With a sigh, she took a few drops of valerian to settle her nerves, lay down, and tried to retrace her steps through the day. Maybe if she walked the route again shed find it. Suddenly, something vibrated under her handher phone was ringing. The screen flashed her own familiar number.
Hullo? Whos there? she answered, hoping for a Good Samaritan.
There came only rustling a little series of soft exhalationsand then: Meow
Margaret hung up in a rush. Very funny, she mumbled. It was a pity shed neglected to set up a passcodenow any idiot could toy with her phone. Her musing was soon interrupted by another call.
The same breaths, the same scratching about and always, the plaintive meowing in reply to her voice.
Dont ring me again! she snapped in irritation.
But the calls kept on. At last, deciding matters could hardly get worse, she wrapped up in her old coat and stepped out into the dusk. The sounds seemed to be coming from outsideperhaps the prankster was nearby, right where shed dropped her phone. She would simply have to walk her path again and see.
As she wandered, she kept dialling her number. Out of hope more than conviction, she suddenly heard her ringtone, muffled but unmistakable. Margaret hurried towards the sound, all ready to give the culprit a stern lecture for meddling with lost property.
Meanwhile, the cat, burrowed happily against the source of warmth, watched through slitted eyes as the strange device buzzed and spoke. He sniffed at it as it muttered on. Polite as ever, he answered back in his own tongue.
The phone fell silent. He prodded at it with his pawat once it rattled back to life. Somehow, it seemed to grow even warmer to the touch. It was bitter out, and this odd contraption was like an oasis of heat. Once more, he jabbed at it.
On this try, the mobile began to blare out a ringtone. Startled, the cat smacked it hard, but that only made the racket worse. In his noisy battle with the singing object, he failed to notice he was no longer alone under the tree.
Margarets temper melted at the sight of the true vandal. There, beneath the heavy boughs, sat a scruffy ginger tom, battered by life, fiercely batting the shrill phone about with his paws in a frantic bid for silence. But then, catching sight of Margaret
He bounded directly to her as if she were his long-lost friend. The way he purred and reached out to herthere was no resisting such a display of affection. Margaret stood quite taken aback by this flame-furred bundle of fondness.
The cat rubbed at her cheeks, as if bestowing gentle kisses. His fur was cold to the touchno wonder hed sought solace on her overheated phone.
Pocketing her mobile and scooping the ginger tom into her arms, Margaret wandered back home, pondering the sudden bonds that love at first sight can bring. How this battered creature seemed utterly enchanted by her! After so much tenderness, there was just no leaving him behind beneath the old tree.
The cat, wild with delight, squirmed in her embrace, nuzzling his head into her chin and lips, though Margaret tried half-heartedly to dodge himthough, truth told, she liked it rather a lot. Whod have thought a stray could be so sweet?
Yet the answer was really quite ordinary
The old tom had become thoroughly tipsy from the valerian drops Margaret had spilled earlier for her nerves, and it had gone straight to his feline head.
