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Boris
slithered through the ajar door into the room at the front of the house.
Squeaker must be in here! This was the only room he hadn’t thoroughly
searched.
The
door bell rang.
He
stood on the carpet in the centre of the room. It seemed safe enough.
Above
him blinding daylight flooded through a bay window making him squint as he
looked around. A big sideboard was covered with ornaments and vases of
flowers. The room was full of materials of all kinds hanging from walls,
hanging by the sides of windows, and covering the floor. Humans liked
material. He wondered if they ate it.
He
carefully sniffed the carpet. His heart raced for a moment when he thought
he could whiff his son, but then when his nose quickly raced back to the
same spot he couldn’t find it. The carpet smelled pungent: of cat and
human smells, particularly that plant stuff that humans smoke out of their
mouths. After a while he had to stop sniffing because it made his nostrils
sore.
His heart leapt; his body froze.
Danger! Earlier he had heard someone come in the front door. Then he had
heard voices in the hall. Now someone was entering the room. No four feet.
That meant two people. He darted under the settee, but he could see them.
He was a woman who wore some red dangling berries around her ears. (How
strange. How did humans grow berries on their ears?). A man with a brief
case. He wore black shoes. Boris’s twisty reflection dazzled back at him
from their shiny surface. (Why did humans wear mirrors on their feet?) The
door was closed. |
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Eek!
How was he going to get out?
"Well!
What a surprise! My, oh, my, oh, my," said the man.
"It’s
simply ages since I’ve seen you, Harold" replied the woman
enthusiastically. "How long is it? It must be at least ten years
since. Do you know I can’t bear to listen to Victor Sylvester’s
records anymore because they remind me too much of those wonderful times
we used to have. What a tremendous surprise. I didn’t know you lived
around here. And to think - all this time you’ve been working down at
the old council."
"Well
yes. I must say you are looking very well. You look quite ravishing."
"If
I’d have known there was a fiery old flame like you down in the old rat
catcher’s department I’d have planted a few rats myself to get you up
here, Harold.
"
"Ha!
Actually I’m not a rat catcher, Marjorie, I’m a Public Health
Inspector. Anyway I thought it was mice?"
"Yes.
Yes it is. Do you know what happened, Harold? Listen. Can I call you
Harry, like the old times? It’s not as though we don’t know each other
extremely well is it? You don’t mind?"
"Not
at all, Marjorie. You were saying?"
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