Each morning as I left for work I secured the house,

Closing the windows against smoke and insects

And shutting the bedroom doors.

Our cat was scared of toms in the neighbourhood

So she stayed inside during the day

And I didn't want the bedspreads full of cat hairs.

But every evening I would find Miss Puss

Luxuriously laid out in one of the twins' rooms.

I convinced myself: 'I only thought I shut the door.'


Until one day I was quite ill, and I stayed home.

Mum and Dad's room was halfway down the hall.

The twins' rooms branched off  like a capital T.

Finally alone, I closed their doors as usual

And flopped into bed, leaving my door open for air.

Ready to bury myself in restorative sleep

A movement caught my eye not yet shuttered.

Our black and white cat padded past the doorway

And I sleepily thought, 'Where is she going?'

But not curious enough to get up and see.

And then I heard a noise, a little squeak.

'We don't have mice!'


I slithered out of bed and peered down the hall.

The cat was up on her hind legs

Stretched full length, forepaws lifted high

Gripping and turning the doorknob!

With a soft click the door swung open.

She waltzed in and leapt on the bed.

Easy peasy! Ha ha ha!


So, mystery solved.

But I couldn't bear to close her up in the kitchen

Or put her outside when she was scared.

She was family too!

Some old towels did the trick.

Not very attractive, but who was looking.

Because I still closed the bedroom doors.

Ha!  A cat is a cat is a cat!

She absolutely 'loved' being 'sneaky'.

I could live with that.


◄ Christmas Cake

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Mon 9th Dec 2019 11:02

As happens so often, one small thing stands out in memory like biting on a sweet currant in a plum pudding.

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