Hey mate, so picture this: a week after we left the cottage, the neighbours finally rolled back in on their little motorboat. They came back without their cat that massive grey tomcat with one ear missing. All summer wed been battling that scrapper on the garden; hed steal my scones off the table, dig up the carrots, you name it. Id gotten used to his antics, so when I saw the couple come back emptyhanded I was gutted and asked Emily to pop over and, without any fuss, find out where their cat had vanished.
Turns out my fears were spot on the cat had been left behind at the cottage. I fretted all day, then gave the boss a ring and asked for a day off tomorrow. Emily let out a heavy sigh and said, Be careful out there. Ask them to ferry the cat over by boat.
Weather hadnt helped a bit. From the moment we stepped outside, leadgrey clouds were spitting a fine drizzle and the wind was whipping the soggy, halffrozen leaves against the road. I roamed the boatyard hoping someone might be heading over to fetch forgotten stuff, but nobody showed up. The only soul I found was a sturdy bloke in size12 boots, tinkering with his engine and muttering to himself. I told him Id left some crucial papers at the cottage and slipped him a fortypound note. He pocketed it, grumbled about those city folk who forget everything, and finally lowered the boat into the water.
The tide was decent, churning up cold, foamy waves that threatened to capsize the little vessel. After a halfhour of wrestling the river, we limped onto the bank near our cottages, the grumpy chap warning, Youd better have a few more quid for a decent ride. I sprinted toward the cottage as the sky darkened and the drizzle turned into icy hail.
Grey! Grey! Grey! I shouted at the top of my lungs, hoping the tom was still alive.
And there he was, shivering, pressed against my boots and letting out a plaintive meow. I scooped him up and bolted back to the boat. As I leapt aboard and settled the cat beside me, the grumpy mans eyes went wide and his mouth opened but then Grey leapt out of the boat, shyly pressed his single left ear against his head and let out a soft, pleading meow before turning and darting away.
Hold on, hold on, where are you off to? I bellowed, then bolted after him, ignoring the curses and threats flying from the blokes mouth. He sprinted ahead, I followed, flailing my arms, and suddenly he veered left into a thicket. I pushed through the branches and found Grey cuddled up to a tiny black kitten, both drenched and whimpering. Grey gave me a guilty look and meowed.
I dropped to the soggy ground, ready to scoop them both up, when the earth trembled. The grumpy fellow stomped over with his massive boots, spitting curses, and appeared right behind me. He paused, then in a surprisingly calm, pleasant voice said, Quick, get them moving. A blizzards coming and itll be snowed in soon.
I lifted Grey and the little black kit and we made a dash for the boat. How we got across the river, Im not sure maybe the Good Lord just gave us a hand, because everything was a whiteout. As we pulled away, the grumpy man, still revving the engine, shouted, Youre a right piece of work!
I was taken aback. Why do you say that? I asked, eyeing the churning water.
He muttered, So whats the story then? You swindled me with the papers and the cash, yet youre the one rescuing the cat? You act like a decent bloke, but Im just a hollow soul, huh? I explained, I was scared youd refuse to help, and there was no one else to save him. He fell silent, snorted, and we docked at the boatyard.
He fetched a box for the kitten and lined it with a warm towel. As I was about to leave, thanking him, he said, You see, nothing ever comes for free, and nothing goes entirely to one side. He turned to Grey and said, You, lad, come live with me. I go fishing, and youre a fine cat. You didnt abandon the little one.
The grey tom gave a guilty meow, waddled over to the grumpy man, and, standing on his hind legs, pressed his front paws against the mans huge boots. The man lifted him up, wrapped his large arms around the cats neck, and held him close. He turned away, his voice trembling for a full minute, muttering, Well, well, well
Then he steadied himself, looked at me with a surprisingly gentle tone and said, Id like to invite you, lad, for a fishing trip next weekend. He winked.
When I got home and Emily was looking after the black kitten, she found a fiftypound note tucked under the warm towel. Now we go fishing all the time with that kindly, grumpy old curmudgeon. And sure, sometimes I show up a bit tipsy and without any fish, but fishings a simple pleasure, you know? Its the sort of thing that makes life feel right.
