A week later the neighbours from the little Surrey cottage floated back on their last boat, and they came without their cat a massive, grey rogue who’d lost his right ear. All summer wed sparred with him in the garden: hed pilfer food from my table, then dig through the vegetable patches. Id grown used to his mischief. So when I saw the pair return without the grey fellow, a cold dread settled over me and I urged my wife, Ethel, to go straight to the neighbours and ask, without any fuss, where their cat had vanished.
It turned out just as badly as I feared. Theyd left the cat out on the cottage grounds. I paced and fretted until dusk, then dialed the managers number and begged for a day off the next morning. Ethel sighed heavily and said, Be careful out there. Ask them to ferry you over by boat.
From the moment the sun rose, the sky was a leaden sheet. Thin, sour rain fell as the wind drove wilted, halffrozen leaves up against the asphalt. I roamed the marina hoping someone would muster a crossing for the forgotten belongings. No one appeared. At last a sturdy man in size45 boots emerged, muttering while fiddling with a motor. I told him Id forgotten vital, lifechanging papers back at the cottage and slipped him a £40 note. He tucked the note away, muttered something about cottage folk wholl forget their own heads, and lowered the boat into the water.
The waves were respectable, hurling frothy, desperate cold that threatened to capsize the tiny craft. After half an hour wrestling the waters mood, we scraped onto the bank beside our cottages. A doureyed stranger muttered that for such a fine view I ought to have taken another twenty pounds, and I bolted toward the cottage. The sky grew a deeper grey, and the drizzle turned to icy hail.
Grey! Grey! Grey! I shouted, my voice cracking, hoping the cat still lived. And Grey materialised, shivering, pressed against my legs, whimpering plaintively. I snatched him up and sprinted to the boat. Leaping aboard, I settled the cat beside me. The grim man stared wideeyed, his mouth openingbut then
Grey leapt from the boat, and, as if embarrassed, pressed his lone left ear to his head and let out a meek, pleading meow. He twisted and darted away.
Stop, stop, where are you off tohell! I roared. I burst forward, ignoring the curses, the splintered planks, the promises to toss us to the devils mother, chasing after the cat. He ran ahead, I followed, wailing and flailing, until he veered left and vanished into the brambles. I pushed aside the thorny branches and saw Grey, oneeared, curled up next to a tiny black kitten, soaked through and whimpering. Grey glanced at me, guilty, and mewed.
I dropped onto the soggy ground, reaching for both. At that moment the earth trembled. The dour man stamped his massive boots, spewing a stream of curses. He appeared behind me, then fell silent. In a surprisingly calm, pleasant voice he said, Come on, hurry up. A blizzards about to start and everything will be buried in snow.
I lifted Grey and the little black kitten, and we ran for the boat. How we crossed the river I cannot recount; perhaps the old gods simply allowed it, for the world around us had gone white and mute. Just then the grim man, over the roar of the motor and water, muttered, You brute.
I hesitated. Why brute? I asked, eyeing the churning water beyond the rail.
So it works like this, he continued. You tricked me about the papers and the money, yet you came to save the cat? Youre a man, but Im a soulless spirit? Is that it?
I was afraid youd refuse, and there was no one else to rescue him, I explained. The man fell silent, snorted, and we docked at the marina.
He rummaged for a box for the kitten, lining it with a warm towel. When I was about to leave, thanking him, he said, Nothing ever happens for one and not the other. He turned to Grey and said, You, come live with me. I go fishing, and youre a proper cat. Youre a good cat, and Im a good bloke. You didnt abandon the little one.
Grey looked at me, mewed apologetically, nudged the dour man, and, standing on his hind legs, pressed his front paws against the huge boots. The man lifted him, and the big grey rogue wrapped his own paws around him, pressing close.
The man swayed aside, his voice trembling for a full minute, uttering only, Well, well, well Then, regaining composure, he faced me with a firm yet oddly gentle tone, I invite you, young sir, to join me for a weekend of fishing. He winked.
When I got home and Ethel tended to the black kitten, she found a £40 note tucked under the warm towel. Since then we go fishing together, always accompanied by the kindly, sturdy grumbler. And what if I sometimes arrive a little tipsy and without a catch? Fishing is a lifething, Id say.
